Cultward
by MillieClann
Summary: University student Bella Swan is delighted when an old friend offers her an unofficial assignment: infiltrate the Authentic. But the task of assessing whether they're a dangerous cult or merely harmless eccentrics is complicated by her attraction to the leader, Edward Cullen. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Story is mine; characters aren't.

**Author's notes** can be found at cultward dot tumblr dot com

The early afternoon sunlight was surprisingly warm against my back considering it was only April, probably because I'd chosen to Scully it up today in a black suit. I hadn't been able to resist. When Jacob had joked on the phone that today's lunch date was "official FBI business," I'd immediately started planning what to wear.

"Am I in trouble?" I'd asked, and he'd laughed, his rich, deep voice reminding me of chili-spiced chocolate even over the phone.

"Well, let's say it's semi-official business, anyway," he'd said, teasingly, and refused to tell me more. I couldn't wait to find out what this was all about.

Even more, I couldn't wait to see him again. Jacob Black was the son of one of my father's oldest friends, and as such, our paths had crossed repeatedly over the years. Nothing had ever come of it, mostly, I suspected, because we'd always lived in different states.

But now we were adults, more or less. Jacob, five years older than I, was a fully-fledged FBI agent; I was finishing up the third year of my undergraduate degree.

There was no reason, I thought with satisfaction, that he shouldn't ask me out. I'd been expecting him to for years.

When I reached the cafe he stood up in one fluid, graceful motion. If that had been me, I'd probably have tipped over the tiny round table, or at least banged my hip against it and spilled the waiting cups of coffee. But Jacob was uncannily athletic, even though he looked too large to be confined in such a fussily civilized space. He towered over me, and my hand disappeared inside his when he reached out to greet me.

"Bella. You look exhausted. Have you been getting enough sleep?"

Annoyed, I tucked my hair behind my ears. "Final exams start in two weeks, Jacob. Nobody's getting enough sleep."

He frowned. If Jacob had a flaw, it was his tendency to be overly protective of me. I think on some level he felt responsible for me, as if I were his kid sister, rather than an independent, competent young woman.

It was high time I did something about that. I sat down, trying to radiate maturity and desirability. Not easy, when you're as ordinary looking as I am.

He got right to the point. "Do you have plans for this summer? Because I think I have an assignment for you, if you're free to travel."

"Really?" I gasped, forgetting all about flirting or making a good impression, and sat forward eagerly, promptly knocking over my coffee.

"Oh, hell. Sorry, Jacob." He was chuckling again, but watching me in a way that made me reconsider his opinion of me. Was it possible that he found my klutziness attractive? I grabbed a handful of napkins and mopped up.

Or more likely, I decided, my enthusiasm. Whatever it was, the way he looked at me, through half-closed, amused eyes, made my skin feel warmer than the sunlight did.

"Yes, really. There's a situation I'd like to check out. It's nothing serious yet-" his eyes darkened as he spoke-"but we're picking up some chatter that concerns me, and I could use a pair of eyes on the ground. Thing is, I can't spare an experienced agent for something that might turn out to be nothing, and it needs to be someone young and non-threatening enough to make contact. So. You still into your cults and freaks?"

I scowled. Jacob had never taken my studies as seriously as I wanted him to, and his time in the FBI had only made him more cynical and judgmental on this point. "Not cults, Jacob. Emergent religions."

He grinned back, unrepentant. "Like I said: cults and freaks."

I sighed. "Have it your way." Then I realized what he was saying. "Wait, you want me to go observe a new religious group? Jacob, that would be fascinating! Only as a sociologist, you know I'd have to inform them upfront about my interests and..."

He interrupted me, shaking his head as he spoke. "That's just it, Bella. You aren't going as a sociologist, and this isn't academic research. If I send you in-and that's a big if-you're going as an employee of my department. That makes you law enforcement, not an academic, for the duration of your contract. Got that? So you abide by our rules, not by whatever airy-fairy politically correct nonsense you're used to."

I scowled. He was deliberately trying to annoy me, I could tell, but I also knew him well enough to know that he wasn't doing it just to be a jerk. He was being upfront with me, which I appreciated, and was, however harshly, underlining the constraints I'd be working under.

I thought for a minute. "Do I get time to consider this? I'm not sure how I feel about going undercover. Because that's what you're talking about, isn't it? Having me conceal my background?"

He nodded, regarding me solemnly. "That's it exactly, Bella. And your observations could lead to further action on our part-to our opening up a serious investigation, for instance, or even laying charges. So it's not the kind of neutral fieldwork you've been training for, I know."

He leaned forward, and took both of my hands in his. "But it's important, Bella, even though I want this to be the most casual operation possible. I need someone I can trust to infiltrate the group and evaluate these people. If they're a potential threat, I want to move on them as soon as possible. But, equally, if they're just a pack of innocent weirdos, they deserve to be left in peace. I know you'll be fair to them without being blind to the potential danger they could pose." I thrilled at his praise of me. This was the first time he'd ever given me such a clear indication he respected my judgment.

He sat back, releasing my hands. "So I can give you a few weeks, Bella, to finish your exams. But then I'd like an answer from you."

Deep down, I already knew what my decision would be. I suspected he knew as well, because I couldn't keep my fascination off my face. "What else can you tell me about these people, Jacob? I want to know everything."

There was a little bit of triumph in his smile. I didn't blame him. We both knew I was already hooked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Story is mine; characters aren't!

**Author's notes** can always be found at cultward dot tumblr dot com, which makes them easy to avoid if you hate author's notes.

"What else can you tell me about these people, Jacob? I want to know everything."

"Not a lot, I'm afraid. I'm not holding back on you. There's just not a whole lot of information yet. But I'll tell you what I know. Their leader bought up a lot in Pasadena with three apartment buildings on it, and that's their center of recruitment operations-the compound, they call it."

"In Pasadena?" I interrupted, disbelieving. "That's pretty nonstandard for a cult, you know. At least, if they're at all isolationist-which I'm assuming they must be, or you wouldn't be talking about infiltrating them. Usually those sort of groups set up somewhere very low-density. in the desert, for example."

Jacob was nodding along as I spoke. "Yeah, I know. It's different, I agree. It might be a sign I'm overreacting-which would be a good thing. But in case I'm not..."

"Got it. Okay, sorry; go on." I was so absorbed in our conversation that I barely noticed when I set my elbow down in the one puddle of coffee I'd missed. Great. This was a dry-clean only suit, too.

Jacob looked like he was trying not to laugh. "So, yeah, where was I?" He shook his head, clearly amused, but at least that was better than exasperated. "Their leader came out of nowhere, as far as we're concerned. He has no priors, no criminal record. Not much of any kind of public record, in fact, which makes me uneasy. He's from a very old, very rich family-not the kind that flash their money around or get into the tabloids, the kind that you barely ever hear tell of. I have a feeling they've been buying him a lot of silence over the years, because we can't find a trace of where he went to school. No one's even turned up his birth records!"

I bit my lower lip, thinking. Nothing I'd ever seen in the literature corresponded to this. Most "cult leaders," as the press call them, are from pretty ordinary backgrounds; historically, religious charlatans and con artists usually emerged from the poorer classes and used their charisma to attract followers, who in many cases supported them. Offhand I couldn't think of any examples of cults forming around rich guys.

"So what makes you think they're dangerous?" I asked.

His eyes met and held mine. "This is confidential, understand?" I nodded. "We picked up chatter from the group-messages placed in student newspapers, signs on public bulletin boards, that sort of thing-that made us curious. Not enough for a full-scale investigation, but enough that we did have a look at some of their online activity. It's all pretty obscure; my guess is only his inner circle get to hear the full story. But there are buzzwords that concern me."

I waited, not saying a word, just hoping he'd trust me enough to elaborate. He looked at me for a minute, as if making up his mind, and what he saw must have convinced him I was adult enough to be trusted.

He lowered his voice still further before continuing.

"Buzzwords like "counterfeit" and "theft," conversations about "bombing" society and "tearing culture apart." It could be nothing more than a catchy marketing scheme for some sort of self-help cult, Bella, but..."

I finished for him. "But it could be some kind of domestic terrorism."

"Exactly." He looked relieved that I understood the gravity of the situation. "Most of my team think the group are harmless. Hell, I'm about ninety percent sure of that myself; otherwise I'd be beating down doors demanding funding for a serious investigation. But there's just enough doubt that I can't shut the file on this one without more information."

He grinned at me, and suddenly he was the old Jacob again, my childhood pal and idol and substitute older brother all in one, always urging me into bigger and badder exploits. Without him I'd never have driven a motorcycle, camped in the woods, gone cliff-diving...he'd been a challenge and an inspiration, and I saw that same gleam in his eyes now. "What do you think, kid? Want to take a crack at it?"

"I do. I really do. Just give me a few weeks to finish up this term and rearrange my summer plans. I'll put my visits to my parents off-tell them I'm going to stay here and do extra credit or something-and make sure my department knows I can't be a TA during summer session." I felt myself grinning back at him. "This sounds so exciting, Jacob."

He sobered abruptly. "Just one thing, Bella. I know you'll think I'm exaggerating, but there's something about this guy...Look, I may as well tell you: you're not the first person we've tried to send in. The other three all came out refusing to talk. All they'd tell us was to leave him alone. I think he got to them somehow."

I scoffed. "I'm trained to do fieldwork and immersive observation, Jacob. I'm perfectly capable of getting close to an emergent religious sect without joining it!"

He still looked worried. "Just promise me you'll be careful, all right? Stay in contact with me; we're going to put you in an apartment belonging to a sleeper agent named Edna Josephs, so I'll expect regular reports from you in your letters to "Aunt Edna." Don't drop cover; don't let them think you're anything other than a student house sitting for an elderly relative. And don't get in too deep."

I rolled my eyes. "I promise. I'll be careful. So what are these people called, and how do I find them?"

"We'll go over your assignment-and more importantly, the rules you'll be working under-in more detail later. But just in case you want to try Googling them, the group call themselves the Authentic. They have a web presence, sometimes; sometimes they appear to get paranoid, and they pull everything. We're not sure why, or what that indicates, but it might mean they're wary of being observed too closely."

Which did, I knew, fit the profile of so-called cults that became unstable enough to do violence to others or, more frequently, themselves. Many new religious movements sprang out of a dissatisfaction with society, but if that dissatisfaction led to distrust and increasing isolation, Jacob's suspicions could turn out to be valid after all.

I had so many questions I wasn't sure where to start. I needed to get back to campus and see what I could dig up, I decided.

"What about this elusive leader?" I asked. "Does he have a name?"

Jacob smiled humorlessly. "You won't find anything about him online, other than that a lot of hysterical women think he's the most wonderful man to ever walk the earth. Some of the blog posts and tribute pages I've seen make me want to punch him in the face on principle. There are girls with online shrines to him, I kid you not. But never a picture-my guess is he forbids it-and never any real information. He probably doesn't let them know very much."

"His name?" I persisted.

"Cullen. Edward Cullen."


	3. Chapter 3

The apartment in Pasadena where I'd be staying, courtesy of my "Aunt Edna," was on the south side of Mentor Avenue.

It was, I thought as I ventured outside for my first walk around the neighborhood, a pretty sweet location. I was within walking distance of Cal Tech, and also of a Trader Joe's. More importantly, I reminded myself sternly, I was around the corner from Catalina Avenue, where the group had their compound.

I tried not to stare as I walked around the block. From what I could see, there were three perfectly ordinary apartment buildings on a fenced lot, with areas of paving stones and grass separating them. A couple of guys were tossing a frisbee back and forth. I shrugged. Pretty harmless from the outside, but I knew enough to know that didn't really prove much.

All right, I decided, time to approach this logically. Jacob had told me the group did recruitment via public lectures and events, so that must mean they advertised. So obviously I should check out the local bulletin boards. I headed back to Trader Joe's.

Sure enough, there was a flyer pinned up. "Does your life feel meaningless? Does the world feel gray?" it asked. "Authenticity can help! Free public lecture June 1st..." I copied down the time and address, but my slight surge of excitement had already ebbed: that was three weeks away. There must be some way to make contact before then, I decided.

Not sure what to do next, I headed to the Cal Tech campus, hoping there'd be some sort of sign there-another bulletin board communication, maybe, or an ad in a student paper. I felt adrift and stupid, and couldn't help thinking that a real FBI agent-or, for that matter, a full-fledged sociologist-would have a clearer direction by now.

All I could find on campus was the same flyer, although this time it had been pinned up with an envelope full of copies, so I took one and sat down, momentarily exhausted. What I should do next was find an iced coffee, and start making some plans. There had to be some rational way to approach this.

There was a little pink piece of cardboard tucked into the bench. Idly, I pried it loose. It was the size and shape of a matchbook, but when I opened the cover, it contained a single folded piece of paper, neatly glued to the inside cover. Huh. I read a couple of paragraphs, and found myself smiling. It was Wuthering Heights fanfic! I hadn't even realized such a thing existed, let alone in such a neat little package.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw two girls watching me and whispering to each other. I lifted my head and tossed my hair back to stare at them. Instead of looking awkward, they smiled happily and rushed over.

"You found our matchbook fic!" the one with dark, curly hair enthused. The other, taller girl just smiled shyly, but it was a warm smile, which I found myself returning.

"It's cool," I said. "Am I allowed to keep it? I'd love to finish reading it." I wasn't really quite as enthusiastic as I sounded, but I was trying to be friendly.

"Absolutely," said the quiet brunette. "That's why we distribute them-so someone will find them and enjoy them." I'd turned the little booklet over in my hand as she was speaking, and I gasped inadvertently at what was on the back cover. The stylized sunrise logo was familiar, because I'd just been looking at it: it appeared on the bottom of the Authenticity fliers.

"Is something wrong?" the dark-haired one asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

I decided it was safest to stick with the truth, or a minimalistic version of it, anyway. "It's just that I just finished picking up this flyer. I was thinking about attending the lecture. And now...you have the same logo on your fic."

The taller girl was beaming at me now, and the dark-haired girl visibly relaxed, smiling at me. "That makes sense," said the taller one, sitting next to me. "It's Authenticity that got me writing in the first place. That's part of why we do the fic drops: to try to give back, maybe even encourage other people to find their authentic, creative selves." She smiled at me again, and stuck out her hand to shake mine. "I'm Angela, by the way. That's Jessica."

I shook both their hands. "Bella. So you think it's worthwhile for me to go to the lecture, then? That's great to know. Something about it just sounded intriguing."

They were both nodding as I spoke, evidently totally believing my enthusiastic-newcomer routine. "It's too bad you have to wait until June," Jessica said slowly, giving Angela a significant look. "Do you think...?"

Angela beamed back at her. "Absolutely," she said to Jessica, and then turned back to me. "There's a special lecture tomorrow, for those of us already familiar with Authenticity. It's be okay if we brought you along-we've passed the six-month mark, so we're allowed to bring guests." I made a mental note of that "allowed;" obviously there was a degree of control over members, then. "Why don't you come with us? I promise, once you hear our Leader talk, it will change your life."

"What's the lecture on?" I asked, pretending to be cautious. Inside I felt like leaping up and punching the air. I had a way in to the group already! Perhaps I didn't suck at this after all.

"Authentic Sexuality," Jessica answered, shivering as she spoke. Next to me, Angela gave a dreamy little sigh. Interesting.

Jessica looked suddenly sly. "If you're still making up your mind, just wait a second. I see something that might decide for you."

I turned to see what she was looking at. A group of people had just emerged from what I was pretty sure was the physics laboratory. At their center was a casually dressed man in worn, faded jeans and a loose white shirt. He was saying something to the others; they clustered around him as he walked, hanging on his every word. In contrast to their excitement, he looked calm and relaxed, his reddish hair tousled and his eyes as sleepy as though he'd just rolled out of bed.

He was gorgeous.

My breath actually caught in my throat for a minute at the pale perfection of him. I felt my entire body flush with a sudden heat, and then, just as quickly, I felt chilled and shivery. I was helpless to look away.

"Who is that?" I could barely get the words out.

Jessica was smiling smugly. "That's him. That's our leader. Edward."


	4. Chapter 4

I tossed and turned for half that night before I finally convinced myself that all I'd felt had been a normal response to extreme charisma. After all, cult leaders were notorious for being charismatic, right? It was, like, a job requirement for them.

So probably everyone got cold shivers when they looked into his eyes. Or, really, any cult leader's perfect green eyes-it was a totally nonspecific reaction!

Sure. Absolutely.

Everyone felt that jolt of pure electricity. Everyone had their breath taken away. Everyone felt as if for the very first time they were feeling real, raw, physical desire, and the feelings they'd used to believe were desire were just pale imitations. Everyone.

Not just me.

Not just about him.

I was completely unconvincing, but eventually exhaustion won out and I managed to sort of argue myself to a standstill, stop remembering those piercing emerald eyes, and pass out.

In the morning I looked and felt awful, in that particular way that only lack of sleep can achieve. My skin looked both too pale and too blotchy; there were dark shadows under my boring brown eyes; even my mousy brown hair had gone frizzy and uncooperative.

Great. I'd wanted to make a good impression-on everyone else at the lecture, I added hastily, still lying to myself-and instead I was going to show up looking like the recently revived dead.

I threw on my softest, pale blue t-shirt and a pair of jeans, and my comfortable sandals. The end result wasn't too bad. Nothing outstanding, but I'd pass.

Maybe my strung-out appearance would be useful; if they really were a cult, they might see me as vulnerable and scoop me in. I wasted a minute standing in front of the mirror practicing my tragic and vulnerable look before I decided that my hair was all the tragedy anyone needed on a Saturday.

At the compound, there were two other girls standing on the sidewalk outside the gate. We nodded and smiled at each other, then fell into an awkward silence, staring at our shoes while we waited for somebody to come out and fetch us.

Just when I was starting to think they'd forgotten us, or that maybe the invitation had been some kind of prank, there was the sound of a bunch of people approaching. I looked up in relief to see six people; Jessica and Angela were among them. All six girls were wearing summer dresses, which made me feel under-dressed, and all wore identical enthusiastic smiles, which made me feel...a bit creeped out, to be honest, but also excited because it was just like reading about a cult in a book.

They're going to love-bomb us, I thought, and instantly felt intrigued that I might be about to see the terminology put into practice.

If only I could take notes, I thought wistfully. Being undercover had its disadvantages.

They swept us into the nearest building, each of us guests flanked by two insiders. "We're so glad you came," Angela whispered to me as we took our seats in the front row near a flimsy stage. Jessica smiled and nodded in agreement with this, but to me, it looked forced. Interesting. Perhaps she didn't want me here after all-but then, why had she invited me in the first place?

I looked around, curiously. The room was nearly full, with perhaps fifty people in total, yet aside from the shifting of chairs as people settled in and a few whispered conversations, it was eerily quiet. One wall was lined with large windows, like a classroom. The stage at the front of the room looked amateurish, as though it had been erected for a grade-school pageant, though the blue velvet curtains were expensive looking.

On the other side of Jessica there were six empty seats. I was about to ask her about those, when a door beside the stage opened, and six people drifted inside. Now the room was completely soundless; we'd all fallen silent to stare.

There were three men and three women, all impossibly beautiful, all dressed as the "leader" had been yesterday in loose, dazzlingly white shirts over jeans and sandals. I tried to maintain some sort of emotional distance by making sarcastic remarks in my own head. They look like summer stock actors playing hippies, I told myself, or like, well, cult members. They look ridiculous. Do _not _get swept up in this, self!

But it was futile. In spite of myself, in spite of my training, and my assignment, and my awareness that they were deliberately dressing the part, they were gorgeous, and I was impressed and excited.

They'd left the door ajar when they entered the room, and I held my breath, turning to watch the open space at the exact moment _he _stepped through.

Instead of taking the stage, he sat on the edge of it, a mere six feet away. My heart was hammering so hard he could probably hear it, and for some idiotic reason I was blushing. I looked away, glancing over my shoulder as though I was looking for someone, just so I'd have a moment to regain some self-composure.

To my amusement, every eye in the place was fastened on him, and the crowd-only half of whom were female-looked as hot, flushed, and generally discombobulated as I did.

See? my inner voice piped up. It's not just you. He's just pulling off the cult-leaders-have-mega-charisma thing, and it's messing everybody up.

I felt both relieved and oddly disappointed. For a minute there I'd half believed there was some kind of connection between us.

I turned back to find him staring directly at me, a half-smile curling his lip as he waited to regain my full attention. Yikes. Now I was blushing worse than ever.

At least I didn't look pale any more. Beets are many things, but pale isn't one of them.

He looked out over his audience, and I felt my shoulders sag with relief. For just a moment, it had been like having a beam of light focused on the inside of my head. I caught myself falling into romanticism, and scolded myself: if Jacob knew what I was thinking, he'd be convinced I was going to sign on for whatever this guy was peddling, and he'd yank me out of here before I had a chance to learn anything. Keep it together, I warned myself; you're supposed to be a cool, calm, intelligent observer, not a fangirl.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** As always, the story is mine but the characters aren't.

**Author's notes** can be found at cultward dot tumblr dot com

"Authentic sexuality," Edward began, smiling warmly, "like all the other forms of authenticity we've been discussing, depends on knowing yourself. I don't mean the surface things, like what boy bands you love, or the wishlist of clothes you'd buy if you had the money, or the secret crush you have on your oldest friend." He looked right at me, smiling warmly, and I gulped. What the hell? How could he know any of that about me?

He doesn't, I reminded myself sternly. He's just picking random examples of typical girly behavior for some reason, and you're so predictable that they all apply to you.

But he really was looking at me, directly at me, more often than at anyone else in the room. I could tell, and I knew I wasn't crazy, because when I glanced sideways at Jessica she was openly glaring at me. Okay, sure, I didn't really know why she was giving me the death glare, but my gut instinct was that she'd noticed her leader noticing me, and she didn't like it.

I felt a little flutter of excitement in my stomach. Immediately I tried to reason it away. Probably he was looking at me more often because I was a guest, a potential new recruit, and out of all three guests I was the only one in the first row. So I was of interest to him, plus I was right there in front of him. Those were good enough reasons to have attracted his notice without reaching for anything farfetched.

I brought my attention back to his speech just in time to hear him saying, "The problem is, people are isolated inside their own heads. It's difficult for them to really see another person, let alone to understand what they need and want." Oops. I seemed to have missed some stuff. My report to Jacob was going to suck at this rate. I sat up straighter and promised myself I'd pay better attention.

"So the place to begin is inside yourself, and I'm going to ask you to put aside everything the world tells you about how you should feel, and what you should want. I'm going to assign you some exercises to help you begin to be more honest with yourselves, but first I'm going to demonstrate something."

He smiled again, a secretive smile, and then pointed at me. "You there-you're one of tonight's guests, right?" I nodded, too shocked to speak. "Excellent. Come on up here for a moment."

I managed to cross the space between us without tripping over my own feet or anything, a minor miracle since my knees had gone weak, but then he stood up and took me by the upper arm, and led me up the steps to the stage. I stumbled a total of three times climbing a set of perfectly ordinary stairs to a height no greater than my own waist, which was a bit of a record even for me, but he had such a grip on me that I didn't fall.

I was, however, bright red again with embarrassment. He must think I was the world's worst klutz, and I was pretty sure I'd heard a couple of people snickering, Jessica among them.

He stopped in the center of the stage, and positioned me so that I was facing him. I couldn't look him in the face, so I was looking at his chest, which was so nicely sculpted that it didn't really help slow my pulse.

He was so, so gorgeous, and I felt red and sweaty and ridiculous. He wasn't looking at me, though, he was looking out over the crowd again.

"Depending on your particular..." he paused, and I looked up to see an evil grin cross his face, so briefly I might have imagined it, "proclivities, you might find yourself naturally wanting to take charge when you're attracted to someone. Equally validly, you might find yourself craving surrender. What I want you to work on is admitting to yourself what it is you want-which role you dream of taking, which inclination comes most naturally to you. Then, once you've begun to know yourselves, I want to help you bring that knowledge into your relationships with others. Together, you'll explore new heights with one another. It will begin simply, with a kiss, but even more crucially, with a command."

He turned his head and looked into my eyes. That whole speech had been so damned weird that I wasn't looking shyly away from him anymore; instead I was staring directly at his face, and when he turned, I couldn't look away from his eyes. I felt weak all over, as if I might actually faint right there on the stage in front of everyone.

When he spoke the whole world went away, and I had no power to refuse him. "Kiss me," he said, and I lifted my face to his, and let his lips lay claim to mine. His arms wrapped around me and pulled me tight against him, and my head spun.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** The characters have been borrowed, and are not my own.

**Author's notes**, as usual, are at cultward dot tumblr dot net

After that he stepped away and started issuing instructions to the six insanely beautiful people in the front row. One of them, a petite dark-haired girl who looked about my age, leaped up and came up on the stage to take me by the arm and lead me away.

I looked at her, grateful, because by that point I felt so confused and overwhelmed I was practically ready to sit on the floor and burst into tears. My hands were shaking. That kiss had affected me like nothing else I'd ever experienced, and I had no idea what, if anything, it meant to him.

I mean, had it really just been some kind of demonstration for his talk? What was I, a cheaper alternative to a slide show?

Jerk, I thought, but my heart wasn't in it. User. Creep.

No, I wasn't convincing myself. That whole episode had been beyond weird, but far from really being angry at him, I was feeling lightheaded and bubbly and...happy. Smitten, just a little.

What the hell was wrong with me?

"If you could just fill these in," the dark-haired girl was saying patiently, holding out two sheets of paper and a pen. I blinked. It sounded like she'd probably repeated that at least once.

"I'm so sorry," I said hastily, taking the pen and papers. "My mind was wandering. What are these again?"

She smiled at me, sympathetic and mischievous all at once. "One is just the standard form we get all our guests to fill in. We'll keep it on file in case you want to start attending regularly." She tapped the top sheet, and I looked it over, nodding in what I hoped was an intelligent, enthusiastic way. It just asked for basic information-name, mailing address, date and place of birth, email. No harm in that, I supposed, but I frowned slightly. Why did they want this? And did I really want them to have it?

Not that I had much choice. I was trying to infiltrate them, after all; there was no point in backing out this soon. Besides, Jacob had my back, right? Nothing really bad could happen.

"The other form we'll work on together," she was saying, and I noticed for the first time that there were other people sitting nearby, having pulled their chairs into a rough circle. We'd been divided into groups of eight or nine people, I saw.

My group included Jessica the Glare-y and Angela, who still looked friendly but also like she was bursting with curiosity. I couldn't blame her. I was pretty damned curious too.

I let the girl lead me over to an empty chair, and sat down numbly. "Now, before we start writing down our answers, let's talk out the questions a bit," she said. She sounded so chipper I wondered if she was on something illegal, or just highly caffeinated. I'd never seen so much perky energy directed at a questionnaire before.

"Bella, you can do your information sheet when we've finished chatting, okay? Don't worry, there'll be plenty of time for you to complete them both." She smiled reassuringly.

I was starting to wonder if I'd wandered into some sort of kindergarten for adults. Really, did we need this much hand-holding and reassurance to fill in two sheets of questions? She was being gentle and friendly out of all proportion to what was going on.

But absolutely no one else in my circle looked as if this was in any way unusual.

I sat up straighter, interested in spite of myself. Love-bombing, I reminded myself. They're deliberately launching a charm offensive, just like cults do in books.

Cool.

The passionate inappropriate public kiss faded to the back of my mind, thank goodness, to be replaced by a fresh focus on gathering information. "No problem," I said, nodding, and she beamed back at me.

"Excellent. Now, everyone have a look at the first question." I obediently glanced down, and then froze. The first question asked whether we liked to take control in sexual situations, or relinquish control to a dominant partner. Eeep. I struggled to keep a neutral expression on my face, but I really wasn't comfortable with the idea of having this conversation with a group of strangers.

"Mike, how about you?" she asked. "Remember, answer from your heart, don't overthink it."

The blond guy on my other side gave me a leering look, and then answered her politely. "Well, Alice, I don't even have to think about that. I prefer to take charge. All of my fantasies involve a female partner who submits and cleaves to me."

"Good, good," she said, nodding, just as though he hadn't said the creepiest thing I'd ever heard outside of a horror novel. I clenched my teeth as he gave me what he probably thought was a significant look. Oh, ick.

It was all I could do not to move my chair further away, or better yet, punch him in the jaw. Was this assignment going to leave me with cooties and a record for assault?

"How about you, Bella?" she asked. "Don't think, just answer: if you were making love, would you rather be in charge or have a partner who took control?"

"I'd rather, uh, not be in charge," I said awkwardly, and everyone around me gave me knowing looks and encouraging smiles. I groaned silently, my face once again flaming. Great, now these weirdos thought they had some kind of deep insight into me, based on one stupid answer to a creepy-ass survey question.

More likely based on the fact that they all just watched you freeze like a deer in the headlights while their Beloved Leader assaulted you with his tongue, I reminded myself, and wished I could sink through the floor and disappear.

"That's marvelous!" Alice said, and moved on to the next victim. "Jessica, how about you?"

Jessica found time to give me one last extra-quick death glare before smiling artificially and smarming, "I'd love to submit to a really masterful, powerful man." I stared. How could anyone say that out loud and not die of shame?

But everyone was still acting like this was all perfectly normal, and I managed to keep my eyes from bugging out of my head as Alice worked her way around the circle.

Unsurprisingly, all four of the guys seated in our group claimed to be dominant-they wish, I thought sarcastically-and all five women, myself reluctantly included, claimed to want to be dominated. Alice hadn't offered a response, which I guessed was one of the perks of leadership. I seriously wished I could change my answer, but by now we were on to question two: how far would we go to prove our love and loyalty to someone?

Luckily Alice just read that one out loud, and asked us to think about it, because my mind was a blank. She did the same with the next three questions. Finally she got to the last one, which asked us how much sexual experience we had. I was deeply embarrassed but unsurprised to find out that this one we were all going to answer out loud again. Oh, joy.

From beginning to end the whole session had taken about half an hour, and my mind felt numb by the time we were told to start writing down our answers. Which is exactly the point, I reminded myself. They're wearing you down by boring and exhausting you, while using group pressure to get you to reveal personal stuff to them. So now a handful of total strangers know I'm a hardly-been-kissed virgin. Not to mention they were getting me to write it down, so there'd be a written record of it.

If I was someone who'd never read about cults and recruitment practices, I'd go home tonight feeling like I had a group of brand new best friends, and my unconscious would get to work rationalizing away the oversharing by making me think I liked and trusted them much more than I really did.

I was starting to lose some of my affection for emergent new religions. No wonder Jacob was so down on them. This was seriously manipulative stuff. Experiencing it was a lot different from reading about it. When it was just information in a textbook, I'd been a lot less resentful and confused.


	7. Chapter 7

"How's it going?" Edward's voice was low and soothing, and his hand on my shoulder felt wonderfully cool in contrast to the overheated room. I looked up into those green eyes, and all my resentment fell away.

"I could really use a break," I said honestly, and he nodded.

"Come with me." He waited for me to stand. I left my filled-in forms on the wooden chair and followed him, aware that everyone in my group-probably everyone in the room-was staring as I followed him.

We walked down the wide hall, and he unlocked an unassuming door and gestured for me to walk in first.

I don't know exactly what I'd been expecting, but I was surprised to find myself in an ordinary looking apartment. Somehow I'd formed the vague idea that all the rooms would be lecture spaces, like the one we'd just left, or maybe dormitories where the members slept.

But of course, I reminded myself, he's the leader. Even if everyone else here shares rooms, he's going to maintain privacy for himself. Why wouldn't he?

I'd drifted further into the apartment. The furniture was mostly upholstered in black leather; the couch and chairs looked deep and inviting, and although I'd never be tacky enough to mention it, expensive. The wooden table and bookcase looked equally pricey, but all the books crammed on the shelves were inexpensive paperbacks, some downright battered. Odd.

There was a huge rolltop desk. I'd always wanted one. I ran my fingers enviously over the worn wood, and then caught myself. Wow, this was beyond rude.

"I'm so sorry," I said. "I don't know what came over me, but I shouldn't be just wandering around your place like this."

He was watching me, his green eyes amused. "No problem." He walked over to the corner that had been fitted out as a kitchen, and poured me a glass of ice water from a stainless steel fridge. I gulped water gratefully when he handed me the glass, feeling absolutely dehydrated.

And famished. I'd skipped breakfast for this weirdness.

"What are you doing here?"

I jumped guiltily. "What...what do you mean?" A note of defensiveness crept into my voice. "I was invited here."

He was watching me closely. "That's not what I mean. Why did you come here? What made you accept the invitation?"

Was he suspicious of me already? So far, this undercover thing wasn't going entirely smoothly. "I don't know what you mean," I lied. "I thought the lecture next month sounded cool. Then I found a hidden fanfic, started talking to Jessica and Angela, and they invited me here."

"And?" He arched one eyebrow, looking skeptical.

"And I wanted to hear what you had to say. I was curious." It was more or less the truth, but my voice came out small and uncertain. It was because I was feeling uneasy, but really it was a good thing that I sounded a bit overawed, right? Not that I had any choice, since my heart was pounding like crazy and I was trembling. Being near him was completely nerve-wracking.

He walked away from me, standing with his back to me and looking out through the narrow gap that had been left between the heavy blackout curtains. "Bella, here among the Authentic we do a lot of serious exploration of emotional truths, but more than that, we try to encourage each other to express our true selves. It's demanding, time consuming work, not a hobby to be taken on lightly. A lot of it is fun, even joyful, but we explore some very dark corners of reality. I don't think you know what you're getting into."

I felt relieved. This was, in a way, the emergent-religion version of legal boilerplate: an entirely standard, almost predictable, attempt to draw a new recruit in by making the group sound exclusive and mysterious. He was throwing out vague warnings to intrigue me, to force me into a position where I'd think it was an honor to be asked to join, and I'd make a commitment to stay. I felt back on solid ground, now that I knew the script.

"You shouldn't be here." He whirled around and in three strides was standing in front of me, his hands touching my shoulders. "You of all people shouldn't be here." Okay, that was a little less standard. Still: full points for being dramatic, dude.

"I can take care of myself," I said calmly. It was slightly at odds with my vulnerable-recruit image, but the words had slipped out before I thought of that.

He smiled, a not entirely pleasant smile no matter how gorgeous the lips that shaped it. "You're like a moth drawn to a flame, not aware that you're in danger of being consumed."

"I don't think I have anything inside me so dark that a little self-exploration will endanger me," I scoffed. "If anything, I could probably benefit from taking some time to be creative. Couldn't we all? I mean, wouldn't the world be a better place if we all had a chance to express ourselves?" I tacked on that last bit, hoping it would cancel out my initial response. The last thing I needed at this point was to get pegged as an argumentative troublemaker. I was going to have to rein in my tendency to speak my mind if I wanted this group to accept me.

"You don't understand." His eyes had somehow gone darker, more emerald than a summer sea, and his hands tightened on my shoulders. "It isn't what's inside you that's worrying me, Bella."

He leaned in, and I shut my eyes, thinking he was about to kiss me again. The idea was both terrifying and delicious. Instead he whispered in my ear, "It's what's inside me."

Abruptly he released me and walked back to the door. "We should return you to the group, if you're certain you want to stay there. They're planning a marathon television-watching session for the afternoon. I'm sure they'll ask you to stick around."

I would have preferred they ask me to breakfast, but I'd say yes to whatever was on offer. "Thanks. I'll do that."

He looked back at me. "Be careful, Bella. It's easy enough to get in, but you might never leave."

I wasn't sure, but that sounded like a threat. Also, how did he know my name? I couldn't remember introducing myself.


	8. Chapter 8

As usual, **author's notes** are available at cultward dot tumblr dot com, and remember: the story is mine, but the characters are borrowed.

I also wasn't sure how a marathon television-watching session could possibly be classified as a cult activity, but as soon as I'd re-entered the classroom, Alice waved me back over to my group and announced that we were going to "Media Room 7" to spend a few hours watching DVDs. "Do you want to join us?" she asked.

Before I could answer my stomach growled loudly, and she laughed. "Don't worry," she told me. "Whichever groups are on kitchen duty this morning will be showing up with food while we get settled in." I followed along happily.

Media Room 7 turned out to be a largish living room, sort of like a common room in a dorm, with battered leather furniture. The butter-yellow leather and bleached wood accents were bright and inviting, and I sank into an overstuffed chair with a sigh of contentment. They sure weren't an ascetic-style cult by any means.

When we were all seated with tables drawn conveniently near each of us, Alice started unlocking a cabinet, revealing shelves of DVDs and supplies.

"Now, for those of you who are totally new, this is what we call an immersion session. You've spent some time exploring your own inner truths, which is great, but it's best to let that stuff percolate for a while before we work on incorporating any of it into our life practices, right?"

Everyone else was nodding along as though this psychobabble were familiar territory. Myself, I was pleased to discover they had their own vocabulary to go along with their practices, but I really wished I had some way to take notes. There was no way I was going to remember all of this. I'd just have to hope that over time I'd absorb enough of it to report it accurately.

"So now," she said, looking at me as she spoke, "we're going to immerse ourselves in some of our culture's popular mythology." Everyone laughed slightly at this. I smiled uncertainly, not quite getting the joke. "We decide what we're watching by voting in the evening, usually," she explained to me, "unless Edward assigns something in particular. Today we're mainlining season one of Community. But we cover all kinds of stuff-current shows, old stuff from decades ago, movies, novels. Sooner or later you'll start developing your own favorites."

I didn't know whether to be amused or insulted by her bizarre assumption that I didn't already have my own favorite TV shows, movies, and books. Apparently she thought mass media couldn't be properly absorbed outside of the Authentic's group viewing sessions.

Luckily I was saved from answering by the arrival of two people I'd never seen before, each dressed in faded blue hospital scrubs and pushing a large serving cart. These were opened up to produce plates of scrambled eggs, fried tomatoes and mushrooms, sausages and bacon, and cartons of juice. When everyone had a heaping plate in front of them, a mandatory glass of juice, and a personal pot of tea of coffee, the servers left and Alice resumed her lecture.

"Now, you're expected to take notes as they occur to you-things you like or dislike about the shows, lines you want to remember, plot bunnies for your own stories-whatever you want to record. These are what we generally use," she said, holding up a Moleskine notebook.

I groaned silently. It wasn't an expensive Moleskine, just one of the brown-paper covered kind that you buy in packs of three, but I'd just remembered that some "cults" are notorious for making money by forcing their members to purchase things-usually books or other educational materials. I wondered what kind of markup I'd be facing on the required supplies.

"So here's your first notebook," Alice said, handing it to me along with one blue and one black pen.

"Thanks," I said to Alice, resigned. "What do I owe you?"

She looked appalled. "Oh, no," she said. "Nothing. You have to have the notebook and pens to participate. We supply them for everyone. I know you're not a member yet, but there's no point in waiting, right? Might as well leap right in."

"Thank you," I said, more genuinely this time. I was feeling slightly thrown again, but undoubtedly there was a reasonable explanation. Full members of the Authentic were probably expected to do fund raising, for example, to cover costs like this.

"Oh, by the way," Alice added, "you might want to write down some of our terminology as well. Like, that we call this an immersion session, or how we say we're mainlining a series? Or even what a plot bunny is, if you don't know already."

I stared.

"All groups have their own jargon," she explained kindly, unaware that she was talking to someone who knew all about it. I felt mildly guilty. "It can be a bit bewildering until you get used to it. Writing some of it down might help you make sense of it."

She'd unwittingly handed me the perfect excuse for taking the notes I'd need to write my "letters to Aunt Edna." My sense of guilt increased. Don't be an idiot; this is what you're here for, I told myself sternly. Out loud I said, "Thank you. That will be really helpful."

It was probably the most honest thing I'd said all morning.


	9. Chapter 9

Four hours later my eyes were tired and my butt was numb, but I couldn't bring myself to just stand up and leave. Which is a pretty common reaction to indoctrination sessions, actually, although with most people it's a matter of feeling too shy or uncomfortable to just stand up and walk out. With me the peer pressure was less crucial than the fact that I needed to be there. I didn't want to disappoint Jacob, and more crucially, I didn't want to screw up my first real fieldwork.

Before I could go mad from TV overdose, the ever-energetic Alice bounced out of her chair, flicked the lights on and the television off, and announced that we were going for a long walk and some lunch. I stood up, blinking, and we filed from the room in pairs.

Alice walked with me, explaining as we went that it was mandatory to follow up an immersion session with physical exercise. "We don't want our work to be physically detrimental," she said. I made a few gentle efforts to ask about their work, but she waved away my questions. "You'll understand more as you spend more time with us," was all she'd say.

We stopped for sandwiches and beer at a pub, and when we left to continue our walk I was with Angela instead. "How are you liking it?" she asked cheerfully. "The Authentic can feel a bit strange at first, I know, but we're a nice bunch, honest. And isn't Edward dreamy? I thought I'd faint just watching him kiss you on stage like that. You're so lucky."

"The luckiest," I said, trying for sarcasm but not quite making it. Just as well, really. She was still beaming at me, which I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have been if I'd sounded less than happy with her beloved leader. "So I guess he doesn't do that all the time, then?"

Her eyes widened. "Gosh, no. I've never seen him do anything like that before. He's very hands-off with us. He conducts lectures, but otherwise his family lead all our activities on his behalf."

"His...Family?" I was having uncomfortable visions of Charles Manson.

"The six people who came in just before him, and sat in the front row near us," she explained. "His parents, and his two brothers and two sisters. Alice is one of his sisters, you know."

My brow furrowed. Two of those gorgeous people had been his parents? I hadn't even noticed any particular age differences among them: they were all impossibly beautiful, smooth-faced and glossy-haired and well-dressed. To be honest they'd looked more like walking magazine adverts than like real, live people.

But at least the Authentic used the word "family" in a normal sense, to mean relatives. At least, it sounded like they did. "You mean his actual relatives?" I asked, just to be sure.

She lowered her voice. "Well, his adoptive family. I've never heard anything about his biological family."

I fell silent, and spent the rest of the walk listening to her chatter. According to Angela, the next day was a writing day, but that wouldn't include the three newcomers. The Authentic reserved writing sessions for people who'd been with the group for several weeks; there'd be more immersion for us, and some orientation sessions. I felt a thrill at the thought of orientation sessions-I was going to be getting deeper into the group!-but I also immediately concluded that the writing sessions must be more than what they sounded like. Surely there'd be no reason to bar outsiders from actual writing workshops. It had to be code for something secret, something important.

By the time we got back to the compound my feet and legs ached. There was no point at which I could get away: I was holding a bottle of fizzy water and being ushered back into the Media Room before I knew what was happening. Dusk fell outside while we absorbed more television. I had lost the ability to concentrate by now; the shows were just flickering images, and I was only half following the plots.

I was openly yawning at eight o'clock, when Jessica and Angela escorted me back to the front gates and said goodnight. The other two guests were deposited on the sidewalk at the same time. I stumbled back to my borrowed apartment, took a quick cool shower, forced myself to write a one-page letter to "Aunt Edna" letting her know about my new friends, and fell asleep the instant I crawled into bed.

I'd been too tired to even eat anything, let alone stay awake fretting about beautiful, lust-inducing cult leaders.

My dreams made up for that: he haunted me the entire night.


	10. Chapter 10

For two weeks, my life was an endless round of group television watching, group discussions and forms, group meals and group walks. Every night I fell into bed, too tired to do more than recap my day in a brief letter and then pass out. If it weren't for the omnipresent Moleskine notebook, I wouldn't have even been taking notes; as it was, the bulk of my notes were episode summaries and bits of Authentic slang.

The orientation session was underwhelming: we were given a brief tour of the central building, lingering longest on the kitchens and the library, where we three newbies sat at a long wooden table with Alice and her somehow creepy brother, Jasper.

Maybe it was just because they'd started us on season one of Arrested Development and my imagination was running in some odd directions, but I got a really weird vibe from the two of them, much less like siblings than like...something else.

Alice did all the talking during our library meeting, but it was impossible to tell if Jasper was naturally quiet or if he just knew he couldn't get a word in edgewise when his effervescent sister was present.

The main point of the meeting seemed to be to give us a heads up of what to expect: kitchen duties, once we'd been there for a full week, and a reading list. Alice handed around the required reading list first, and I was looking over my copy and being unexpectedly reminded of first year university courses when there was a clunk near my elbow and I realized Jasper was dropping a canvas bag in front of each of us.

The bag bore the now-familiar sunrise logo, and inside I found the books listed as "unit one" on the reading list: Wuthering Heights, two old-school Harlequin romances from the 1960s or maybe early 70s, and some scifi thing called The Number of the Beast. Ugh. I wrinkled my nose at this last one. I've never been into science fiction or fantasy, and this looked even duller than most.

I sighed heavily. "How much do I owe you?" I asked, but once again they refused to accept my money. If this was, to use Jacob's slur, a cult, it was the least efficient one imaginable, at least in terms of turning a profit. So far I hadn't been asked to buy anything, sell anything, or recruit anyone else.

After that, the monotony of television watching and long walks was broken up by mandatory silent reading periods in the comfy, overstuffed armchairs scattered throughout the huge second floor library. "After two weeks, there'll be a lot more writing," Alice promised us. I waited impatiently for a change.

A rumor was going around that there were two beds open for full time members; Jessica had passed this on to me, and I was pretty sure she was trying to make me anxious, since there were three of us theoretically competing for the beds.

All the while, I kept my eyes peeled for glimpses of the Authentic's improbably handsome leader. Angela hadn't been kidding when she said he was hands-off: during those first two weeks, he didn't interact with any of us, at least not that I saw.

He did watch us, however. Or rather, he watched me. I frequently looked up from a book, or glanced away from the television, to see him staring at me from the doorway. He never approached, though, or spoke to me, and although I loved looking at him I wasn't eager for further conversation, not if it was going to consist of him warning me away and saying I shouldn't be there.

I wanted one of those two spots, damn it. I wanted in, so I could start making headway on figuring out their worldview (and possible threat level).

I did not want to be driven off by the leader before I had accomplished anything.

On my third Sunday with the Authentic, I got back to "Aunt Edna's" apartment too wound up to sleep. This was it: I'd logged two full weeks. I'd watched and re-watched the shows and movies, reread Wuthering Heights (a joy, since I loved that book) and grimly made some headway into the scifi novel (not even a little bit of a joy, at least not so far).

Surely tomorrow would bring changes: an offer of entry, or perhaps a rejection. I wrote my letter, paced around the apartment, tried to clear my head. Nothing worked. Finally I poured myself a huge glass of ice water and stepped out on the balcony, intending to enjoy the night air until I felt drowsy.

He was there.

Edward was standing on the sidewalk below me, staring up at me. I gasped out loud, and my heart pounded.


	11. Chapter 11

_This is dedicated to all of you who've been kind enough to read and comment-and I hope it revives ClancyJane._ ~M.C.

I wondered if I should go down and invite him in, but before I could make a decision he'd jumped up, grabbed the bottom rung of the fire escape, and I could hear his footsteps ringing on the stairs as he climbed up to the third floor. I grinned to myself. Nice to know that finely-muscled body wasn't just for show: that had been impressively, offhandedly athletic.

All too soon he was standing in front of me, and I still hadn't figured out what to say. "Hi," I said, mentally kicking myself.

"So," he said. "You've passed the two-week mark. Tomorrow you start writing." I was absurdly pleased that he'd been keeping track.

"I'm loving my time with the Authentic," I said, and to my surprise I realized it was the truth. It had eaten up all my time and energy, but they were a fun, low-key group to hang out with. I liked them, and there was something deliciously self-indulgent about devoting my days to books, television, and exercise, and forgetting the outside world. I had no idea what was on the news, and no idea what my parents were doing, or what was going on with my classmates from university.

And I didn't care.

A small voice inside me warned me that this wasn't entirely a good thing. I ignored it.

"So what happens tomorrow?" I demanded instead. "How will they get me started?" Edward was looking at me, that intense, absorbed look I'd come to know and crave. It took him a little while to answer, as though he'd been lost in thought. No one had ever found my face that fascinating before. It was impossible not to feel flattered.

"Oh, they'll give you a new notebook, and get you to start creating characters," he said. "Your ideal hero, for instance. And then each time you have a mainlining session or a library session, you'll do comparison charts: write down the ways in which the male characters are like your hero, ways in which they're different, that sort of thing. After a week or two, when they think you've got a decent grasp of a few sets of characters, you'll start regular writing classes. We hire outside instructors to lead those. Plotting, structure, theme-the same things you'd cover in a creative writing course anywhere, I suppose, but we encourage our members to stick to fanfiction for a year or two. It's a good training ground, but more importantly, it's an effective way to communicate with outsiders."

Aha, finally: outreach. I mentally did a fist pump, but carefully schooled my face to remain neutral. "Communicate what, exactly? Why are we trying to reach outsiders?" At last I was going to find out what the purpose of the Authentic was.

He was smiling at some private joke. "When you're ready to communicate, you'll know the answer to that."

I groaned with frustration. "Let me guess: the purpose of the Authentic is to drive me crazy by never telling me anything?" I was deliberately baiting him, which probably wasn't very professional of me, but I couldn't help it.

He didn't look offended or annoyed. On the contrary, he seemed to approve of my impatience. "I promise, Bella, we'll explain ourselves to you as quickly as is reasonable. If we just dump a whole lot of information in your lap about who we are and what we believe, it won't mean anything. You'll think we're nuts, and run a mile. Although," he mused, "that might be the best thing for you. Maybe I should be trying harder to scare you off?"

"Why? What is there for me to be scared of?" I challenged him. "Is the group going to hurt me in some way?" I knew no emergent religion would ever admit to an intention to do harm, but I was curious to see how he responded.

"No," he said. "The Authentic are going to help you get in touch with your truest self, and find your destiny. I can't say that counts as harm."

"Then what's the problem? Why should I be running from that?"

He gazed deep into my eyes. I couldn't look away, and my heart was thudding in my chest so hard he could probably hear it too. "Because you might not like your destiny, Bella. You might not like knowing who you are, and what you're meant to be. But by the time you understand, I don't think you'll have a choice."

If he intended to scare me, he was beginning to succeed. It wasn't just his ominous choice of words; it was the low, steady, totally serious way he was talking, and the look in his eyes. He looked utterly convinced that what he was saying was true: I would have no choice; I wouldn't be able to get away.

I swallowed, hard. I felt lightheaded and shaky all of a sudden, as though I might faint. He took a step closer, bending his head so that I could feel his breath against my neck.

"I'm going to make use of you, Bella. It's the use you were born for, your whole purpose in this world. But it isn't something your previous life has prepared you for, and to you, it will feel like having your will overruled. More than overruled: obliterated, until you have no desire left except to embrace the truth and serve me."

He stepped away, and before I could react, he was gone.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's notes:** _I hate author's notes. But for those of you who like them, there are some up at cultward dot tumblr dot com (and if you read the post marked SPOILERS, it answers the whole "vampire" question. IN A SPOILERIFFIC WAY. So avoid that if you don't want spoilers.)_

Edward had been telling the truth. Week three was exactly like weeks one and two, except now I got to attend writing classes, and I was spending more time in the kitchens.

The writing classes were indistinguishable from any creative writing course anywhere, except possibly the Authentic members were a little more unflaggingly enthusiastic. I'd never found time to take a writing credit-I'd been too busy focusing on my major in sociology, and cramming in double minors in psychology and religious studies-and I began to feel a profound gratitude toward the group for offering me this chance.

Which wasn't, I recognized, a good reaction to be having: feeling grateful toward them compromised my ability to keep a mental distance between myself and the people I had under observation. But I couldn't help it.

I was even enjoying my time in the kitchen. I'd always accepted food preparation as a necessary evil, a chore I had to do in order to feed myself and whichever parent I was living with, but I wasn't a particularly inspired chef or anything.

Cooking in the Authentic's broad, gleaming kitchen, however, felt more like a social activity than a boring task. Cleaning up was strangely satisfying: wiping down the stone counters and washing the group's china and glassware. Chopping enormous piles of fruits and vegetables, or kneading bread, was mindless but comforting. The kitchen was cool and comfortable, and I looked forward to days when I had a shift there.

Next to the library, it was my favorite room, and if they kept forcing me to read and discuss The Number of the Beast the library was going to drop in my estimation. Ugh, that book. It was my least favorite genre, I found the style boring, and the content alternately bored me and made my eyes bug out in horror.

But for some reason, everyone in the Authentic treated it as very, very important. Easy for them to think highly of it; they'd finished reading it. On Friday, when I'd finally plowed my way through to the end, Alice and Jasper clapped me on the back as though I'd run a marathon, and handed me a new notebook labeled "World as Myth."

"It's so you can record your thoughts as you work on the book's major theory," Alice said helpfully, and it was all I could do not to groan out loud. I'd really hoped that finishing it would mean I could move on to some other book.

I heard a snicker from the doorway and looked up to find Edward there, clearly enjoying my distress. "I need to borrow Bella," he said, and I imagined I could sense envious eyes on my back as I exited the room. We walked downstairs to his apartment again. I could feel my pulse race as I realized where we were going. I'd be alone with him again, something I should probably dread-after all, every private conversation ended with obscure warnings-but instead craved with a worrying intensity.

"So, what do you think?" he asked, shutting the door behind us. I wasn't sure what he was asking about: the group? Him?

"The book," he said patiently. "Now that you've finished it, what's your opinion?"

Uh-oh. This conversation was going nowhere good. "Do you really want to know?" I hedged, hesitant to openly criticize something that was obviously important to them, but positive I'd never be able to lie convincingly about it.

"I absolutely do," he said, grinning evilly.

I sighed. "All right, then. I think it's boring, sexist drivel. The characters are flat, breast-obsessed weirdos who're endlessly up themselves, and the plot is practically non-existent" I blurted all of that out pretty much in one breath, and shut my eyes, dreading his reaction.

To my astonishment he laughed. "Yeah, me too," he said mildly, once he'd stopped.

I stared at him. "Then WHY do you inflict it on new people?" I asked, annoyed. "Is it meant to be an endurance test, or some kind of hazing ritual?"

"It's because of the World as Myth theory," he said. "Sorry about the suffering involved, Bella, but of the people out there who've heard of the idea, most of them will have heard of it because of that book. So we start people off there-it's familiar ground to some of them, and for the rest it's a nonthreatening, neutral exposure to the theory."

I honed in on that one word. "Nonthreatening? Is there some reason you'd expect outsiders to be threatened by an idea from a science fiction novel?"

He stared into my eyes, and once again I felt lightheaded and breathless as I stared back into those green, unfathomable depths. "Yes," he said, his voice distant, almost clinical. "Yes, there is. We believe it's the truth."

It took me a while to process what he was saying. It was bizarre and unexpected, and I had no idea how to react to the sudden revelation that he thought a pulp scifi novel contained some sort of important truth.

"I see," I said slowly, willing my face not to reveal how I felt. "So you think there are multiple universes out there, including fictional ones, which are somehow real?" Only my training and my determination to behave like a professional kept me from backing away slowly. God. He was gorgeous and insane. What a waste.

He was smiling, a gentle reassuring smile that suggested he knew I was freaking out. "I know how bizarre it sounds, Bella. But even scientists acknowledge the possibility of multiverses, and religions and mythologies have always hinted at different realms of existence Don't write us off as lunatics yet. Give us some time to explain our beliefs to you, and to show you how we use them to improve our current world."

Somehow even though I'd been sent here specifically to infiltrate a possibly-dangerous cult, I had never until this moment been fully convinced that Edward was a cult leader. He was too distant, too casual, too handsome to be convincing in that role.

But now the level cadences of his voice as he spouted absolute insane crap at me was giving me chills, and not in a good way. These were goosebumps of actual terror. I took a step backward, reluctantly trying to set aside my inconvenient crush on him. Time to re-engage my critical faculties and start assessing the threat level these people posed.

As if he could feel the distance increasing between us Edward reached out and grasped my hand. His was cool against my skin, and it was the perfect masculine hand: large and strong, but also gentle. In spite of my best intentions my heart gave a little flutter, and I felt tingles of attraction. Damn.

"No matter how numerous the worlds, in all of them I'm looking for you," he said seriously.

"How do you even know you're the same person in all of them?" I asked, unwilling to get sucked in to this fantasy.

He shrugged. "Perhaps I'm not exactly the same. Maybe in other realities I'm something different: a sadist, a vampire, who knows. But if I'm me at all, then I'm in search of that world's you. I guarantee it."

It was gibberish, of course. Pure nonsense. But I felt myself blushing like a teenager, and wishing with all my heart that it was true, and that I was free to enjoy it.

The rest of my day passed uneventfully, until I staggered home at around nine o'clock. Why was I so exhausted lately? Every night I was home sometime between eight and nine, and I'd been sleeping well enough. There was no reason I should be feeling ready to collapse from exhaustion every single evening. I frowned, worried. Maybe I should try to make time to see a doctor.

I let myself into Aunt Edna's apartment, prepared to write her another one of my brief letters. If anyone from the Authentic was monitoring me, they must think I was the most devoted niece ever; I got a letter out to her almost every day. For me it was a security measure, as well as a way of passing along information. I reasoned that if I ever missed a couple of days, Jacob would notice and send someone along to check on me.

Until now there'd been no reason for me to need rescuing. But tonight I locked the door behind me, and turned to find I wasn't alone.

A man stood near the window. I couldn't make out his features in the darkness; he was just a huge, threatening shadow. I drew in my breath to scream, and to my horror found I could barely squeak.


	13. Chapter 13

This update is dedicated to the anon commenter who asked **What would Aunt Edna** think? That made me giggle like a lunatic, and oddly enough, this chapter answers your question.

**Author's notes** are at cultward dot tumblr dot com (but no spoilers this time!).

"Don't freak out, Bella, it's me," said Jacob hastily, and in my relief I threw my canvas bag of books at his head. "Okay, the time to do that was before the intruder identified himself as an old friend," he pointed out, neatly catching the bag before it could smack him in the face.

"You idiot," I whispered. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Why couldn't you turn the lights on, or wait outside?" I turned the lights on myself as I spoke, and he ducked away from the window.

"Because your apartment might be being watched," he said calmly. "It probably isn't, but you are awfully close to the cult compound, so they might be having someone keep an eye on you."

"Why are you here?" I eyed him suspiciously. "You aren't pulling me off the investigation, are you?"

"Far from it." Was I imagining it, or was there a grim expression on his face? "Now, tell me: are these weirdos as dull and harmless as you've been making them sound in your letters?"

I hesitated. If he'd asked me that yesterday, I'd have had no qualms in saying yes, but after today's conversation with Edward I wasn't as certain. "They're a bit stranger than I initially thought," I admitted, feeling like a traitor as I spoke. "They have some odd beliefs that I'm only just now getting to hear about. Apparently they think there are parallel universes. But," I added quickly, not wanting to make them sound worse than they were, "I think they're harmless eccentrics. A little nuts, possibly, but I haven't seen them do anything that could possibly put anyone at risk."

Jacob didn't look convinced. "I want you to be really careful, Bella. Don't underestimate the dangers here just because they look harmless on the surface. It's too early for you to let your guard down."

I looked at him carefully. "You know something I don't," I said. "What is it?"

He moved away from the wall, being careful not to walk in front of the window, and sat on the battered floral couch. He patted the seat beside him, and I sat with him, curling my legs up under me. It felt good to have him here, even if this conversation was setting off all my warning bells.

"We've made contact with a witness," he told me. "A man named Royce. He claims his fiancee was kidnapped by the Authentic and brainwashed somehow, and says she took part in a mass marriage ceremony."

I shook my head, bewildered. "That doesn't sound anything like the group I'm watching. I don't even think most of the members are married. I haven't heard a word about mass marriage ceremonies, much less kidnappings."

"I hope you're right. But I did check out his story, and I can confirm that his girlfriend joined the group quite suddenly a few years back. Of course, without talking to her it's impossible to get a feel for how seriously we should take the kidnapping story. But the whole thing does sound odd."

"Is she still in the group?" I asked, trying to remember if I'd seen anyone I could describe as brainwashed. Absolutely no one had looked as if they were in the group unwillingly, but admittedly, I hadn't exactly been looking for kidnap victims.

"As far as I know, yes. Her name was Rosalee Hale, if that rings any bells."

I blanched. I knew perfectly well who Rosalee was. "But that can't be right," I objected. "Rosalee is Edward's sister."

He raised one eyebrow. "Sister?" he repeated sceptically.

"Well. Adopted sister." I was suddenly miserably aware of how little I knew about these people even after nearly three weeks. I had only Jessica's gossip to go on, and for all I knew "adopted" was Authentic code for "successfully brainwashed."

"Interesting," he said. "This is starting to sound much more cult-like, and less like a non-coercive self-esteem movement."

I felt an irrational flash of annoyance. "You don't know that," I said. "The person who told me they were brother and sister could have been mistaken. Or lying to me: she's not a huge fan."

He raised one eyebrow. "What on earth have you done to make an enemy already?" From his tone I could tell that he was joking, but it still stung a little. I don't enjoy having people dislike me; who does? And it wasn't fair. I'd been nothing but friendly to Jessica, and it wasn't as though she had any idea I was there to spy on her Beloved Leader and assess him for maniacal tendencies.

"I think she's jealous," I admitted. "Edward has singled me out for some attention, and I don't think she's entirely happy with that."

Now he wasn't looking amused at all, just alarmed and angry. "What kind of attention? What the hell has been going on?"

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, calm down. It was nothing huge. He's pulled me aside to talk to me alone a couple of times-which I reported in my letters, by the way."

"I hadn't realized those had been private conversations," Jacob said. "I thought he'd been talking to you in the lecture hall, with other people present."

I squirmed, feeling oddly guilty. It was true I hadn't been entirely clear on that point in my letters. Partly that was because I hadn't thought it was important; what mattered was the information I was getting, not where I was standing and who was present when I learned it. Right?

But partly, I admitted to myself, it was because I'd been enjoying being alone with Edward, and I hadn't wanted to subject those feelings to official scrutiny.

Especially not official scrutiny by Jacob Black.

"Is that all?" Jacob asked now, watching my face as if he was trying to read the thoughts in my head. I felt myself blushing.

"Not quite." He waited. I swallowed, finding it ridiculously hard to confess this. "He...well, he kissed me once."

Jacob looked unimpressed. "During one of these private conversations?" he asked sarcastically.

"Actually, no," I admitted. "It was on a stage, in front of about fifty people, during that first lecture I attended. He was making some kind of point-I forget what, exactly-and he pulled me out of the audience to demonstrate."

For some reason that diffused Jacob's anger. He hooted with laughter. "Are you kidding me?" he said finally, wiping his eyes. "That is the least romantic thing I ever heard."

I was instantly annoyed. "How do you know? You weren't there."

He smirked. "Bella, romantic kisses don't happen as part of a public lecture. Romantic kisses happen in private, between two people who want to be together." Before I could stop him he'd grabbed me by the shoulders and was kissing me, roughly. For a minute I was too confused and startled to react. Then I pushed him away. It took all my strength to get him to stop long enough for me to step away.

I couldn't make sense of the thoughts and emotions swirling around inside my head. "I think you should leave," I said quietly. "This is just too much to cope with right now."

He nodded. "I'll be in touch," he promised. "Bella: be careful. These people sound less harmless the more I hear about them." He left quickly, hugging me briefly-but platonically-on his way to the door.

I wondered what exactly he thought sounded dangerous about the Authentic. The rumors of kidnapping and group marriage, or Edward's interest in me?


	14. Chapter 14

Jacob's visit had upset me so much that I made my way to the compound on the morning of June first, entirely forgetting that the public Authenticity lecture was scheduled for today, and I had a moment of sheer confusion when I got there and found long tables set up serving ice water and lemonade and an assortment of breakfast muffins, and dozens of strangers milling about chatting with the regular members.

"Oh good, you came," Alice said, seizing me by the arm and drawing me into the crowd. "I wasn't sure if you'd bother with the public lecture-some of the Authentic skip these-but I know Edward is hoping you'll be there." She gave my arm a conspiratorial little squeeze, and smiled at me.

"Alice," I asked impulsively, "is Rosalee married?"

Her smiled turned a bit bewildered. "Of course she is. She and Emmett were part of last year's celebration. Why do you ask?"

Oh, great. I wasn't sure what "last year's celebration" meant, but suddenly Jacob's tales of group marriage no longer seemed quite so far-fetched. "It's nothing," I lied. "I just misunderstood somehow. I thought they were brother and sister." I tried to laugh, but even to my own ears it sounded forced.

She frowned slightly. "I suppose technically they are," she said, and I gaped at her in horror. "I mean, Edward's parents kind of adopted us all, and treated us as their own kids. So in a way it's not incorrect to call them brother and sister. It's just...misleading." She squeezed my arm again and laughed a little, cheerful once more. "It's not important anyway, Bella. What's more important, really, is that now they're brother and sister in Authenticity, and are being true to their love for one another, just as they're meant to."

Yeah, that was a whole lot of not-even-a-little-bit reassuring, right there. I tried not to let her see how perturbed I was.

"So, what did Edward want me here for?" I asked, as casually as I could manage. "Anything in particular?"

She gave me a serene smile. "Coincidentally enough, he wanted to talk to you about how we in the Authentic view marriage, so you can start preparing yourself for your role here among your new family. After the lecture, of course."

The smile froze on my face. "Of course," I mumbled, shocked into a state of near catatonia, and I let her drag me through the crowd and position me behind a table to hand out pamphlets.

Now I kind of regretted sending Jacob away so quickly. It would have been really, really reassuring to know he was waiting in my apartment to talk this over tonight.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's notes** are up at Tumblr.

When we finally herded everybody in for the lecture, I ended up in the front row again, between Alice and Jessica. I couldn't stop worrying about what Alice had said. What role was I supposed to be preparing myself for, exactly? Were they going to marry me off to someone? I cast my mind over the members of my study group and winced. There was no possible way I could pretend to go along with that, not even for a moment. It would take Academy Award caliber acting to convince anyone that I was willing to get engaged to any of the guys I'd listened to, back on that first day, claiming they were naturally dominant.

I shuddered. I tried to look focused and serene, but I doubted I was going to be able to take in a word of this lecture. I had more pressing things to worry about.

Once Edward started speaking, however, I felt myself relaxing into the sound of his voice, and hanging on his every word. It was freakish how charismatic he was. No wonder he'd gathered a group of people around him. It wasn't so much that he wanted followers as that they wanted to follow him. Hell, here I was, supposedly investigating him, and I still found him utterly fascinating.

His lecture this morning was on using popular culture as a guide to clarifying your own desires. I found myself looking from him to the audience, impressed by the hold he had over them. "Even in books that other people deride, you can find meaningful clues about what you need to live your most Authentic life," he was telling them, and they were leaning forward in their seats, nodding along as he spoke. "Let's take Wuthering Heights. A lot of people will tell you how much they hated that book, how unhealthy the relationships in it were, how "bad for you" it is. But let's be honest: how many of you loved that novel when you were a teenager?" There were a few embarrassed laughs, but nearly the whole room raised their hands, and I did too. He caught my eye for a moment and smiled.

"Exactly. So why do we listen to people who knock our taste in escapism? We convince ourselves that their viewpoint is more intelligent, or more responsible, or more modern-but the truth is, none of that matters in the least. What matters is that somewhere in our favorite books and movies and television shows there's a thread of meaning that speaks to us. Maybe it's a character who shows you some aspect of yourself, or one who thrills you with an idea of what your ideal romance would be; maybe it's a setting that, even though you've never been there, haunts you with a sense of familiarity. Whatever it is, it's important, and you need to hold on to it, not listen to the people who want to destroy that for you."

He went on in this vein for a while, and I got totally caught up in what he was saying. If I'd been alone I'd have taken out a notebook and started making lists of my favorite books to see what sort of patterns I could tease out of them. The Authentic obsession with pop culture made sense, looked at from this angle.

Obviously they were trying to speed up the process a bit by exposing us to lots of stuff all at once, to see which stories scored palpable hits, and what parts of them worked for us. I couldn't wait for our next day of regular immersion and discussion sessions, now that I could see a glimpse of the path ahead of us.

Then I shook my head, trying to dispel the rush of enthusiasm. I was here as a participant-observer; I shouldn't be letting myself get too caught up in their brand of self-improvement. Even if I did ultimately decide they posed no threat to anyone, I didn't want to become one of them.

Did I?

I glanced from Alice, who was possibly the most cheerful person I'd ever met, to Jessica, who I suspected was naturally grumpy but who, I had to admit, had been looking happier of late. Beyond Alice I saw Rosalee and Emmett, heads bent towards each other even as they silently listened to Edward, and I felt a pang of jealousy at how close they sat, how obviously comfortable they were with each other. I wanted that-not with Emmett, whom I found kind of intimidating, but with someone. Someone intelligent, and attentive, and unusual, and attractive.

I shook my head again, and pinched the back of my hand, trying to divert my thoughts. But instead I just kept listening to Edward, and every word he said made me feel more moonily romantic, and more aware of how alone I was.

My life was so empty when it came to personal relationships. I'd grown up with divorced parents, and I think that's why I'd been too cautious about getting hurt to ever have a boyfriend.

Even my friendship with Jacob was mostly a thing of the past; now that we were adults, we no longer had time to spend just hanging out with each other, but somehow we'd never managed to move on to any kind of next step. I thought about the kiss last night, and felt lonelier than ever. It hadn't made me feel swept away by emotion, or as though I was coming home to a place I'd been looking for all my life. It hadn't made me feel much of anything.

What if there was something wrong with me, and I'd never find the right guy? What if I was incapable of falling in love? What if I spent my time with the Authentic pouring over my favorite shows and novels, and in the end all I had was a list of all the things I'd missed out on?

I had tears in my eyes. Trying not to let them spill, I lifted my chin, and found Edward staring right at me as he spoke.

"We want to help you find the truth," he said. "We want you to know yourself, and be whole. We'll move heaven and earth to help you, if help is in our power." I froze, unable to lower my eyes. A burst of applause from the audience reminded me that I wasn't alone with him.

Applause. Huh. As if what he'd said was true for everyone in the room.

When really, I knew, it had been intended just for me.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

The guests left just before noon. Somehow I was already exhausted. For once, instead of breaking us into our subgroups and hustling us off for media immersion or a reading session or a group discussion, our various team leaders left us standing around, casually chatting. Interesting. I watched carefully, waiting to see what would happen next, and taking deep breaths to recover my equilibrium. That public lecture had really gotten to me. I felt shaky and badly in need of some time alone and maybe a nap.

Then I felt his hand on my arm, and with a sudden thump of my heart remembered that I was scheduled for a private conversation with Edward. My pulse sped up exponentially, adding dizziness to my list of symptoms. The room seemed to swing in circles around me.

"Put your arm around my waist," Edward ordered. I did, and realized he was doing the same to me, practically supporting me as everything swooped and spun. Briefly I wondered if I was going to throw up. We were already moving, leaving the room for the relative coolness of the corridor. When we stepped into his private quarters the air was cold enough to raise goosebumps on my arms, and the nausea receded, thank God.

Edward settled me on his huge leather sofa. I lay down and closed my eyes, unable for the moment to argue about anything.

I think I dozed off for a while. When I opened my eyes I felt better-still weak, but better-and he was sitting by my feet, watching me. Had he been there the whole time I slept? I was mildly horrified at the thought. For the first time in my life I had reason to wonder if I snored, or drooled, or anything else revolting.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

I answered without thinking. "Humiliated. I nearly fainted out there. I have no idea why; I was fine when I woke up this morning."

"Anxiety attack," he said matter-of-factly, as if my public near-collapse was nothing unusual. "It happens, especially when we're on the brink of something momentous."

Oh, right: he was insane. For a moment there his sheer gorgeousness and consideration had distracted me from that important fact. I sighed. Why did someone so utterly perfect looking have to be involved in this weirdness? Life was not fair.

"Alice said you wanted to talk to me about marriage," I said grimly, determined to get this over with. I reminded myself to take good mental notes, since for once I didn't have one of the cult's mandatory notebooks at hand.

"Yes." He leaned back, shutting his eyes for a moment. "Sooner or later all potential members get this talk, of course, but we usually do it during small group sessions. Your situation is just a little different, though, so I wanted to handle it myself."

I sat up, trying to exert a little control over the conversation. "Why don't you give me the usual talk first, and then you can clarify how my situation is different afterward." Provided I haven't run a mile by then, I thought nervously.

He opened those amazing eyes and stared into mine, rendering further speech impossible. Maybe that's why he'd shut his eyes in the first place: to stop dazzling me long enough to let me respond.

"Sometime during their first year with us, Authenticity members are offered the chance to make a commitment," he said, his voice perfectly calm and level. "It happens once a year, and usually anyone who's been with us for less than six months is excluded automatically until the next year-it's just too soon for them, I think, and I don't like to pressure people who're still getting used to our ideas."

So Angela and Jessica qualify, I thought, but I don't. I felt a strange pang of jealousy, which was ridiculous: whatever new madness he was about to unveil, I should be relieved not to have to go along with it for the sake of not blowing my cover.

"But in your case," he went on, nearly stopping my heart, "we can't wait. Well. No. That's not true. I can't wait. I don't want to wait." He smiled, an unsettling little smile. "I refuse to wait. So you're being offered a position in the commitment ceremony two weeks from now."

I waited, but he didn't offer any more details. He just kept watching me with those unsettling, impossibly beautiful eyes. I felt dreamy, almost as if I was drifting back to sleep, and for a moment I wanted to agree to take part, even though I had absolutely no clear idea what that would involve.

Instead I shook my head and blinked, grabbed whatever thread of common sense was left to me, and pushed for more information.

"Commitment to what, exactly?" I asked. "What's this ceremony all about?"

"Commitment to me," he said. "It's a marriage ceremony."


	17. Chapter 17

This chapter is dedicated to **Camilla10/11**.

Also, I apologize for not replying to individual comments; I've been a bit rushed for time this week. I'll try to get to them on the weekend, or early next week.

Further **author's notes** and thanks are, as always, at .com

I gave him my most sceptical look. "So sometime during their first year, all new members of the Authentic are expected to marry you? I'm pretty sure that's illegal, Edward."

He snorted. "Very funny, you. No: sometime during their first year new members are asked to take a leap of faith and make a dramatic break with their old lives. We ask them to do something impulsive, something that sounds crazy on the surface of it, but which gives the universe a chance to prove to them that what we're saying is true. So we ask them to partner up and get married, and then see how their choice-that spur-of-the moment, instinctive, gut-level choice-plays out."

Wow, that didn't just sound crazy on the surface: that sounded like layers and layers of crazy all the way down. I tried not to let that show on my face. "What happens if there isn't anyone in the group they feel that way about? Are they just supposed to make a lifetime committment to someone they don't even find attractive, or what?"

He shook his head. "We would never ask anyone to do that. But you know, it's never been a problem. When the time comes, there's always someone here for everyone. Personally I think our work here causes it to happen. The fictive resonances assemble the required cast of characters each year, just as it would happen in a novel or a television show."

Riiiiight. I tried not to back away; for one thing, I'd fall off the couch. But hearing him actually laying out the stuff they believed was like watching my dream guy turn into a madman right in front of my eyes. Except he's been mad all along, I reminded myself. You've been kidding yourself that he was normal. Better than normal: perfect. But that's only because you didn't really know him.

I sighed, heavily.

"So I'm expected to get married?" I couldn't keep the disbelief out of my voice. "I'm suppose to pick someone here, and actually marry them?" Holy crap.

"No," he said gently, and hope flared up inside me. Maybe I was the exception. Maybe he'd singled me out for some special role-eternal virgin or something-and I could stay here and participate without having to do anything life-wreckingly weird.

But that hope was dashed immediately. "Remember," he went on, "you've indicated right from day one that you're naturally submissive." I felt my face heat up with embarrassment. "So you won't be the one making the choice."

It took several beats for that to sink in. When it did, I gasped, and actually drew back a few inches in revulsion. "You're kidding me. Some person in the group is going to pick me, and I'm expected to marry them, with no say in the matter? You have got to be joking."

He was shaking his head, but there was nothing about his expression that I could interpret as joking no matter how hard I tried. "Not exactly. For one thing, members' choices aren't final. My family and I look things over closely, and try to weed out any inappropriate matches. Not every incidence of attraction on the part of a dominant person should be indulged, after all."

I almost sighed with relief at this tiny hint of sanity in a sea of lunacy, but then he went on, "More importantly: in your case, the choice has already been made. You've been Chosen. All that's left now is for you to decide if you trust us enough to follow through, or if you'd rather leave the group."

I gulped. I really, really needed to contact Jacob and find out how he wanted me to handle this. I had no idea what the ramifications were, here. Would this even be a legal marriage? If it was, and I got married while investigating a cult, was there some sort of "get out of wedlock free" card I could play later, based on having gotten hitched in the line of duty?

Because my gut reaction, no matter how nervous I was right now, was to stick with my assignment and follow through. Surely I was getting to the heart of things now. People were going to be coerced into marriage right in front of my eyes: I needed to see what happened to them, what kind of pressure was brought to bear on them, whether or not some kind of outside intervention was required.

"How long do I get to decide?" I asked.

"Everyone else will be getting the talk tomorrow," he told me, "and they get twenty-four hours to decide. So sometime on Monday, I want your answer."

"Am I allowed to know who I'm being paired off with? That's going to have an impact on my decision." That wasn't quite true; the only significant factor in my decision was going to be Jacob's advice. But I had to admit, I was curious.

He laughed quietly. "This is why I said you were a special case. Usually we get offers from someone in the submissive's subgroup-and we have had a couple of people express interest in you. More rarely, someone from the larger group of fifty "freshmen" makes a bid for someone they haven't shared study sessions with. But with you, everything is different."

I felt my heart beat wildly. "Different how?"

His eyes met and held mine. "Because I've Chosen you for myself, Bella. You're meant to be mine, and I intend to claim you."


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's notes:** _I still haven't replied to comments. I suck. But I only have a minute on the computer, and I won't be on again until who-knows-when tomorrow, so it was either answer comments or get this up. Please, please forgive me for the delay in responding; I'm not trying to be a jerk, I promise._

It was a good thing I was already sitting down, because my legs went weak when he said that, and I felt more lightheaded than ever. Was he serious? I felt like a heroine in a gothic novel, ready to swoon to the ground from a combination of terror and romance.

I couldn't even begin to come up with an answer.

"You're still looking awfully pale," he said, reaching out to hold my hand. He was smiling slightly; perhaps he knew his pronouncement was responsible for my current pallor. Hell, one way and another he was entirely responsible for how pale and off-balance I was. "Look, today's a day off for everyone. Why don't I walk you home so you can get some rest?"

I blinked. "A day off?" Most cults don't give their members time off to go away and think things over.

He laughed quietly. "Everyone needs some down time, Bella. Not to mention everyone's probably sick of seeing the same faces day after day. So we like to make sure there's time every now and again for people to drift back to their old lives, check in, revisit the things they used to do before getting involved with the Authentic."

That all sounded so unlike the usual behaviour of emergent religious groups that I wondered if he was lying to me, trying to put me off-guard. Looking into his eyes, though, I couldn't see even a hint of guile or dishonesty.

"I could use a good, long nap," I admitted cautiously. "But there's no need for you to walk with me. I'm staying just around the block, remember?"

He frowned at me. "It's hot outside," he pointed out, "and half an hour ago you couldn't walk the length of the corridor unassisted. I'm coming with you."

There was no point in arguing. He walked with his arm around my waist, and after a few minutes of awkwardness I settled for putting my arm around his as well. It felt incredible to be pressed against his side like that, half-supported by him every time I stumbled or wobbled. I kept thinking about how we must look to everyone we passed on the sidewalk-not that they were paying particular attention, but if they had been, we'd have looked like boyfriend and girlfriend.

Or like lovers.

My knees buckled slightly at the thought. "Are you all right?" he murmured, and kissed the top of my head.

"I would be if you'd stop doing that," I snapped, using irritability to hide how flustered he'd gotten me. He laughed again, that low knowing chuckle that made it all too clear he wasn't fooled by my efforts at nonchalance.

I fumbled with the key, managed to get "Aunt Edna's" door open, and then gasped in shock as we stepped inside.

Someone had broken into my apartment and completely ransacked the place. My clothes and books were strewn everywhere. Several loose photographs were scattered across the floor, but the album itself was nowhere in sight. Paintings had been pulled from the walls; one that I could see from the doorway had been cut open on the back.

Even the old, comfortable couch had been attacked. Several horrible gashes were leaking stuffing. For some reason that was the last straw: I burst into tears, irrationally upset that someone could ruin such a harmless piece of furniture. It was as though some malevolent force had reached out to attack every soothing, normal corner of my life. Edward reached out quickly, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me in to sob against his chest.

"What were they looking for?" I asked finally, pulling back and wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand. "I don't own anything valuable."

He looked furious. "They weren't looking for anything; they were wreaking havoc," he said. I wanted to ask how he knew that, but for once I held my tongue.

Perhaps I was better off not knowing.

"You can't stay here," he said, shaking his head. "Gather up what you need and come back to the compound. You can stay there until you've made other arrangements. Or you can stay there permanently, depending on what decision you make on Monday."

My pulse sped up at the mention of the choice in front of me, but I didn't have time to think about that now. Should I really stay at the compound? I needed to phone Jacob and discuss the whole wedding situation, and there was probably no way I'd have enough privacy to do that there. Perhaps I could slip out later tonight and call him.

Going back to spend the night with the Authentic felt like a really unsafe thing to do. But right now, I couldn't come up with any other options.

"All right," I said reluctantly. "I'll stay, just for one night. In the morning when I'm thinking more clearly I'll find someplace else to crash."

"Perhaps," he said blandly. "Perhaps." I shivered, sensing some threat I couldn't quite define.


	19. Chapter 19

Edward helped me gather up my things: enough clothes for a few days, my toothbrush and stuff, a few books. I was too numb with exhaustion, and too wrung out emotionally, to even think straight, let alone make decisions about what to pack. He could have led me off a cliff right then, and I wouldn't have had the strength to protest.

Instead he led me back to the compound, an entirely uneventful trip. I focussed on staying awake long enough to put one foot in front of the other, and that was it.

For some reason I'd been expecting he'd bring me back to the main building where we'd had all our lectures and study sessions and everything. I'd been assuming all along that the upper floors were probably dorm rooms. And maybe they were, but for whatever reason, we ended up at one of the other two buildings.

I sighed at the sight of the staircase, and Edward set my suitcase down just long enough to lift me in his arms, then effortlessly picked up the suitcase again, and walked up two flights of stairs. I was amazed, to say the least, but I barely had the energy to comment. "I'm not too heavy?" I mumbled, embarrassed, and he looked amused.

"Not in the least," he said. He wasn't even out of breath. Was it just that I was confused and everything felt weird, or was that...well, really strange? In my current state it seemed an almost supernatural feat.

He set me gently down and unlocked a door on the third floor. It was a single room, which destroyed my ideas about cultlike lack-of-privacy dormatories, and it was lovely. The hardwood floor was bare; the walls were white, except for the trim, which was a curious light blue. The ceiling was the same colour-not quite sky blue, not a shade I could ever recall seeing before.

"What an unusual blue," I said, and yawned hugely.

"It's to help you have sweet dreams," he said, "and to keep the nightmares away." He walked over to the bed and turned back the white quilt, revealing gleaming white sheets. Everything looked crisp and clean, and I was so, so tired. Edward must have understood, because he actually opened my suitcase and laid out a pair of pajamas for me. I laughed, a little hysterically.

"I'll leave you to get some rest," he said, not commenting on the laugh. "When you wake up, feel free to come across to the central diningroom and find something to eat. Or you can just go downstairs, if you don't want to go out. Just let someone know if you want to leave the compound. I'm going to have the gates locked."

That was new. They'd never been locked before. I looked at him, questioningly, but he left without offering an explanation.

I forced myself to take a quick shower before climbing between the blissfully cool sheets. I was asleep almost before my head hit the pillow.

Perhaps it was the accumulated stress of the day, but I had the most vivid, disturbing dream. I was in an empty bar of some kind, all alone, and worried about something.

The owner walked in, not seeing me there, and I watched him sitting at the bar by himself, his shoulders slumped. I saw that he was crying, and in the same moment remembered that he was a friend of mine, someone I cared for deeply, perhaps more deeply than I should.

I walked toward him, offering sympathy, but when he rose from the bar stool he towered over me, and with a thrill I realized that I'd put myself in a dangerously charged situation. He grabbed my hand, and forced me to dance with him, and somehow I ended up in his arms, on the floor...

I woke, my heart pounding like crazy. At first I couldn't remember where I was or how I'd gotten there, and the dream had been so vivid that I expected to find the man there with me, holding me down, lying on top of me. I felt flushed and excited and scared all at once, but more than anything, I felt aroused. The whole dream had had a feeling of inevitability, and now the post-dream hangover persisted, making me uncomfortably aware of my own body, and of how I'd felt in that man's arms.

I tried, and failed, to remember his face. I was certain he'd been someone I knew, but his identity had faded away as I woke.

By any rational standard that should have been a nightmare, but that wasn't how it had felt at all.

I took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, trying to make myself stop shivering. I was fine; I was perfectly safe. I'd fallen asleep in a strange room feeling skittish about letting the Authentic provide me a temporary shelter, and worn out from the stresses of the day. That was all. There was no reason to freak out over a dream, no matter how real it had felt at the time.

I lay back, staring at the ceiling, and after a while I calmed down enough to fall back asleep.


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's notes:** _Thank you so much to everyone who's been reading or commenting. I made a post over at .com to thank a huge swath of you all at once, and leave some spoiler-ish hints, but of course as soon as I thought I was caught up I had more comments. So if I haven't thanked you yet, I swear I'm not ignoring you! I'm just slow._

When I woke again it was dark. I sat up groggily, wondering how long I'd been asleep. There was no clock in the room, and a watch hadn't been among the things Edward had reminded me to pack. I looked through the window to the empty courtyard below, and guessed it was past my usual bedtime. So: nine or ten, maybe.

I wondered if this building had a kitchen and diningroom, and if the layout was the same as in the building I was familiar with. The only way to find out was to head downstairs. After a few minutes debating with myself over whether I should get dressed, I settled for throwing on my slippers and the white bathrobe I found hanging on the back of my door. I wasn't really expecting to meet anyone-it was so quiet I wondered if I was the only one here-but even if I did, this would have to do.

The first floor appeared to be a duplicate of that in building one. I slipped inside the kitchen, and noticed there were lights on in the diningroom. Peering out, I saw Rosalee and Emmett sitting together at the far end of the room. Great. I wasn't really in the mood to make conversation, especially not with people I didn't know well. I started to back away, but Rosalee looked up and saw me, and waved.

"There's soup heating on the stove," she called, "and I left sandwiches in the fridge for you. Grab a tray and come sit with us." Funny, even inviting me over she didn't sound half as friendly as Alice did. Her voice was a little too crisp, her beautiful face a little too expressionless. I couldn't tell if she didn't like me for some reason, or she was just a bit of an ice goddess to everyone.

I didn't feel like I had much choice but to sit with them, though. It would have been beyond rude to shun a direct invitation from Edward's adopted sister, and besides, she'd made me food. The least I could do was try to be friendly.

I reminded myself that Rosalee's marriage was directly at the center of Jacob's current concerns about the Authentic, took a deep breath, and actually crossed the room successfully while holding a tray. Yay, me! Sometimes you have to celebrate the little things.

Actually, now that I came to consider it, I was feeling steadier and more firm on my feet than usual. That sleep really had done me a world of good.

"So," I said, "you two are Edward's siblings, huh?" Which was not only a painfully obvious remark, but also, given that I knew they were married, a wildly inappropriate one. I blushed hotly and wished I could remember to think before I spoke. Rosalee was looking at me like I was something distasteful she'd been asked to pick up from the side of the road.

Emmett was grinning, though, and didn't look bothered. "Among other things," he said, and took a huge bite of his sandwich.

"Right, yeah. I heard about that," I said awkwardly, and he snorted quietly. "Um...well, as long as you're happy, I guess. I mean, it's not as if you're actually related." My inner critic was screaming at me to shut up, and finally I managed it by picking up my own sandwich and pretending to be utterly absorbed in my food. It wasn't that hard, actually. I was starving.

Even with my eyes lowered I could feel Rosalee staring at me, though. Finally it got too difficult and uncomfortable to ignore her, so I glanced up to find her watching me with a really hostile expression on her face. I blinked. What was her deal?

"You should get out while you can," she said calmly.

I felt a surge of irrational rage. How dare she try to drive me away? I hadn't done anything to her (well, I suppose I was spying on her, but she had no way of knowing that). What was her problem?

I forced myself to smile at her. "Does that mean you recommend I don't marry Edward?" I asked sweetly. I thought I heard another quiet snort from Emmett.

"Yes," she said bluntly. "I think you should turn him down, and go back to your real life."

I still felt angry, but it occurred to me that maybe she wasn't just being a bitch: maybe she had legitimate reasons for warning me away.

I couldn't think of any way to ask that with Emmett there, though, in case it somehow got her in trouble. I needed to keep this conversation going long enough to figure out her motives.

"Don't you think I'll make Edward happy?" I asked finally.

She sat forward, her hands clasped on the edge of the table. Her knuckles were white, I saw, and I felt my stomach knot with reciprocal tension. Fuck. Maybe Jacob was right, and she really had been kidnapped or something.

"I'm sure you'll make him happy." She smiled, but it was a cold little smile, and it didn't reach her eyes. She really did still look angry at me, though I couldn't figure out why. "He's been waiting for someone like you for as long as I've known him. But Bella, you could still just leave. You could go have a normal life somewhere, and not have to deal with all of this." She waved her hand vaguely.

"But aren't you happy here?" I asked, risking a quick glance at Emmett to see if he was getting ready to attack her. Or me. But he wasn't looking perturbed at all. He was sipping water from a glass, and gazing across the room as if he could hardly be bothered listening to us.

"Of course I am." Funny: she didn't look it, not right now. Her lips pressed together after each utterance, and her eyes glittered with unshed tears. "But I haven't got a choice, now. Knowing what I do about the universes, I can't just turn my back and retreat into mundane life. That's the thing, though, Bella: you still can. You could go live with the rest of the mundanes, and never feel the sort of responsibility we feel, never feel isolated from the mainstream, never be in danger."

Emmett spoke, unexpectedly. "I don't think that's true, darlin'," he said quietly. He looked at me, but he was still talking to her. "Unless I miss my guess, Edward brought her here because she's already attracted someone's attention. Which means she isn't safe on the outside, not any more. She goes on trying to live as a mundane, and I don't think she'll stand a chance."

Rosalee didn't answer; she just sighed heavily, and gave me one more confusing look of anger and pity. After a few seconds she stood up. "It's late. Bella, could you take our dishes to the sinks? The morning shift will deal with them. Our apartment is down here on the first floor, if you need anything."

They left me alone, cleaning up like the solitary servant in a vast and understaffed house. I wasn't a horrible enough person to just leave dishes for someone else to do, though, so I washed everything and put it away before trudging up to my room.


	21. Chapter 21

Author's notes: Apparently ffn hates links, or hates my links in particular, because it won't even let me PM them to people. So if anyone wanted those spoilers and couldn't see them, let me know i a comment and I'll just copy and paste them to you. ANYWAY. Moving right along: here's the next update. It will probably raise more questions than it answers, but at least the supernatural angle is starting to poke through...

. . . . . . . . .

Sunday morning I woke early, showered and dressed, and dashed off to the main building to meet up with the rest of my subgroup.

I didn't waste time looking for Rosalee and Emmett. I assumed they were off being in charge of their own subgroups, and anyway, I couldn't think of a productive line of questioning at this hour.

It was eight in the morning when I breezed through the front doors; Authenticity had done what years of school and university hadn't, and got me in the habit of starting my days early. That was kind of cult-y, now that I thought about it. They'd reprogrammed me into being a morning person without my even noticing it.

It felt like the first day back after a vacation, even though we'd only taken half of a day off. Everyone was milling around in the hallway, chattering at the tops of their lungs. I smiled and waved at people, and eventually found myself standing with Jessica and Angela.

"Today's the day!" Angela said brightly, looking pale. I narrowed my eyes in confusion. Great, what was going on now? Had I missed something?

"Has Mike said anything to you?" Jessica demanded. "I mean...do you know if you have any offers?"

Offers. Oh, right. This was the day when all the newbies were supposed to be getting the Marriage Talk-only as far as I could tell they didn't need the talk, if they were already well-informed enough to know about offers being made on them and so forth. Never underestimate the speed of gossip when compared with official schedules.

"No," I assured Jessica. "Mike hasn't said a word to me. I, uh, I heard there's an offer on the table for me, but it isn't from Mike."

They squealed and began to speculate happily on who it could be and whether he was in our subgroup. I tuned them out completely, and spent the rest of our time in the hall fretting about what I was going to say to Edward tomorrow. I'd forgotten all about calling Jacob last night. I was going to have to find time to do it today.

Alice waved to catch our attention, and we strolled into Media Room Five just ahead of the breakfast trays. I whispered my thanks to the unknown Authenticity person who brought my food, dropped my bag at my feet, and waited happily to see what we'd be doing. Alice was handing out photocopies, and I accepted mine and started reading it over absently.

My eyes bugged out. It was a mishmash of clips and quotations from various articles about General Hospital, the soap opera. Apparently years and years ago there'd been a rape storyline (actually, I think I'd heard about that before). The rapist character was supposed to have a very temporary storyline, and get killed off. But according to this, fan reaction had been so overwhelmingly in favour of pairing off the rapist and his victim that they'd been written into being a couple on the show.

Holy crap, that was fucked up.

I shook my head. Where was Alice going with this? She was standing next to the television, and gradually the room fell silent.

"Thanks," she said. "Now, what you're about to watch is fairly controversial, but I want you to hold off judging until you've seen it all. This is, basically, a fan-created compilation showing all the scenes featuring Luke and Laura, starting back when the rape storyline took place, and continuing up to the point when they were married. This is going to eat up our whole day, and we'll probably rewatch it later in the week, so we won't have a lot of time for discussion for a while. But I just want to warn you up front: this can be disturbing, and previous groups have sometimes reported problems stemming from this material. Everyone here is staying in the compound now, which is good."

She paused, and smiled at me. "I want to remind you that you can always talk to more senior members if you need to, and of course, each building has members of my family living on the ground floor. We're there for you, if any reality crossovers occur-or even if you just have nightmares."

She started the show before I could ask what a reality crossover was; I jotted the phrase into my notebook for later, and within minutes I was being completely sucked into a soap opera storyline.

When we paused to stretch our legs and return our dishes to the kitchen, my head was spinning. The show was kitchy and outdated, and I found some lines and scenes completely unbelievable because of that. Laura fighting with her husband over whether or not she was allowed to work at a bar was both hilarious and infuriating. Had the 70s really been that bad?

But at the same time, I had felt myself reluctantly getting drawn into this ludicrous world.

Then we'd reached the rape scene, and I had felt frozen with terror ever since, as though my blood had turned to ice water.

It wasn't that it was terribly graphic or anything.

It was just that the scene was a perfect mirror of my dream. The stupid "disco" where the rape took place, the music, the way he'd pulled her into his arms and demanded she dance with him: it was exactly like my dream.

How the hell was that even possible?


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author

**Author's notes:** _Some people expressed concern after the last update over the direction this might be going in. Without knowing which direction they're worried about I can't give a definite answer, but my best guess is they're worried there will be rape scenes in this fic. So let's get this out of the way: there are no noncon or dubcon scenes in this story (unless you count an unwanted kiss or two), and absolutely no rape scenes. I hope that helps._

_Hmmm, what else. Someone has asked a couple of times now for longer chapters. I can either post two or three times a week, with chapters the length I am currently posting, or else post once a week, and the chapters will be twice or three times as long. I don't see that switching it up now will be much of an improvement, frankly. I can only write so much in a week, and I prefer to post scene-length chunks rather than book-chapter-length chapters._

_Someone else mentioned wanting Edward's point of view. God, that would be cool to write. I think I might actually do this, as a couple of little out-takes/one shots. Thank you, anonymous commenter, for the suggestion._

Someone touched my arm, and I jumped and spun around. It was Edward, looking startled at my overreaction.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I wasn't trying to sneak up on you. I just wanted to let you know that I dropped by your apartment and grabbed these for you." He held out my cellphone and watch.

"Thanks," I said, trying to calm down. I didn't ask how he'd gotten in. I couldn't remember where my keys were; for all I knew, he had them.

Then I realized what I was holding: my cellphone. I'd be able to phone Jacob for input about the whole marriage thing! I sighed with relief, impatient for our next break, and thanked Edward again as Alice herded us all back to our soap-watching.

Back in the media room, Jasper showed up to collect the four guys while we were still getting settled in. They departed looking flushed and self-important, and the four other girls dissolved into giggles and chatter that I couldn't bring myself to take part in. It felt like being trapped back in junior high, but with actual marriages on the line instead of who was going to dance with whom in the gym.

I shut my eyes to keep from rolling them. I didn't want to harsh anyone's fun, here, but it was all a bit juvenile. Was this typical of cults? I'd never read anything comparing them to junior high, but maybe being in a controlled environment reduces everyone to their seventh grade self.

I could get a paper out of this, I told myself, when I finally got back to my real life. It felt good to remember I had a real life. Lately I'd thought of it less and less.

Alice restarted the video, which diminished the gossip and giggles a little. "Won't the guys have trouble getting caught up?" Jessica asked, and for some reason that provoked a fresh wave of embarrassed laughter.

"When they get back, you'll go off for your own lecture, so they can get caught up again," Alice said patiently, smiling kindly around the room as though she understood their over-excited state.

Which I supposed she did: presumably this was how she and Jasper had hooked up. Ugh. I felt a bit like gagging at the thought of couples being paired off this way, but I reminded myself not to be so judgemental. They looked happy enough. Surely it was none of my business...unless they really were the victims of coersion, in which case I couldn't wait to hand this whole mess off to Jacob and his team.

"Oh, right," Alice said suddenly, looking right at me, and I jumped guiltily. "Edward mentioned you'd already had The Talk. I guess you can take an hour off while the guys get caught up on their viewing, Bella."

Thank goodness: a chance to call Jacob. I sighed with relief.

By then we'd missed five minutes of dialogue-not that it seemed all that crucial to the plot-so she skipped back, scolding us with a wordless hushing noise, and we sat back to watch the gripping saga of a rape victim falling for her rapist. Lovely stuff. Every time she had a flashback to the rape the same cheesy music played, and I shuddered, creeped out not so much by the rape itself as by its eerie, inexplicable mirroring of my dream.

I couldn't come up with a logical explanation, and I didn't want to dwell on any irrational possibilities. If the Authentic had the ability to somehow affect the dreams I was having, I didn't even want to know. I just wanted out of there.

Finally the guys came back, and the four other girls were ushered out, every single one of them giving me a curious look as she passed.

I was going to have to tell Jessica and Angela about my offer, I could sense that much already. For however much longer I needed to stay undercover, I was going to have to try to behave like everyone else, and talking over my offer and giggling self-consciously looked like an essential part of newbie-Authentic behaviour.

I fled to my room, cellphone in hand, needing to hear Jacob's voice as a lifeline to normalcy.

I shut the door and turned, already dialling his number, to see a note lying on the surface of the desk. "Bella?" said Jacob, and a wave of relief washed over me.

"Oh, God, Jacob, it's so good to hear your voice," I said. "I need your advice, right now. They're conducting some sort of group wedding ceremony soon-"

"Wait, what?" he said. "How soon?"

"I don't know exactly," I admitted, "but we're all getting told who our potential partners are today, and we have to give a yes or no answer by tomorrow. And I'm staying at the compound now. Someone trashed Aunt Edna's place, so Edward offered me a room temporarily. Or not so temporarily, I guess, if I get engaged. So what am I supposed to do? I'm pretty sure if I say no they'll kick me out of the group, but...I mean, how far should I go with this? Do you want me to go ahead with a fake engagement? Would it even be a legal marriage, if it got to that point?"

I paused to catch my breath, and listened to him breathing on the other end. "Who are they suggesting you marry?" he growled.

I felt a slight twinge of irritation. How was that even relevant to what I'd just asked?

"That's hardly the issue," I snapped back. "I need to know how to proceed here. Also, I had a conversation with Rosalee-not much of one, her husband was there the entire time, but enough that I think you might be right. I don't think she really wants to be here, Jacob. Maybe she really was kidnapped."

"Did she say so?"

"No. I just got a weird vibe from her, and she kept warning me to get out."

He sighed. "It's not enough for me to act on. Do you feel safe staying there for a while longer, Bella? Does the engagement thing scare you too much?" He sounded almost hopeful.

"Not if you think I can collect important information while I'm here," I told him, and realized it was the truth. I didn't really feel scared, not by the marriage thing. More than anything I just felt fascinated, to be honest.

And I couldn't imagine leaving now, not really, not when things were just getting interesting.

I glanced down at the note at the desk, and laughed. "Oh my God, Jacob, you're not going to believe this. Someone left a letter on the desk in my room. I think they're trying to gaslight me into believing all their weird fictional-world stuff."

"You're calling from your room?" Uh oh: he sounded worried. I suppose I should have left the compound.

"Call me back later, from a more secure location," he said impatiently. "And Bella, try to be careful, all right? Don't let these people get too close."

I promised he would, and hung up, feeling miffed that he hadn't even bothered to ask what was in the letter.

"I know we've had our difficulties," it read, "but I still care for you, and I think we can make our marriage work. You need to stay away from him; he's dangerous, and I think the police are after him." It was signed, "your loving husband."

I snorted with laughter. I'd never been married in my life. Whoever had left this for me must be completely crazy, if they thought I was going to believe that some fictional husband had left me a note.

I shook my head, threw it into the wastebasket, and opened my door, only to come face to face with Edward.

Had he been listening the whole time?


	23. Chapter 23

"Bella, are you all right?" he asked. "You look pale."

I would have laughed in his face, if it weren't for the fact that his face was so stunning it threw me a little off-balance even when he was being ridiculous. It was obvious to me as soon as he spoke in that concerned tone that he was the most likely suspect to have left the letter on my desk. After all, he undoubtedly had access to the room, and he had a vested interest in getting me to believe this whole "fictional characters are real" thing.

I looked up at him, trying not to get distracted by those amazing green eyes, and spoke coolly. "Of course I'm all right, Edward. Why wouldn't I be?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. I just had the feeling something might be wrong. Besides, you're right on the brink of making a committment to our way of life. If the Enemy want to turn you away, this is the logical time for them to attack."

I was pretty sure the word logical had no place in this conversation, but I kept my tone level and nonjudgmental. "Who are the enemy? Why would anyone want to attack me?"

He smiled, and took my hand. My heart pounded in response. How anyone so damned crazy could be so damned hot was beyond me, but he really, truly was. I found myself wondering if maybe some harmless craziness wouldn't be worth overlooking.

We walked slowly down the hallway, hand in hand. I felt as giddy and excited as if I were twelve years old and he was my first boyfriend.

"Don't worry," he said reassuringly. "I won't let them get to you, Bella, no matter what I have to do to protect you. The Enemy are...well, difficult to explain to someone from outside, who hasn't shared any of our experiences yet. You'll understand a lot more soon, I promise. But remember: you belong to me. I'll keep you safe."

He was leaning toward me as he spoke, and I leaned forward too, holding my breath, waiting for the moment when his lips would touch mine again. As he reached out and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me tight against his body, I became dimly aware that I was hearing music in the background.

We were standing near the top of the stairs, right outside someone's closed bedroom door, and they must have been listening to music. That was all, I told myself, ignoring a faint flutter of apprehension. No big deal.

It was kind of appropriate, even. I shut my eyes, losing myself in the moment and Edward kissed me, gently at first, and then more forcefully. My knees went weak as the kiss became more insistent, demanding more and more from me. I gasped soundlessly against his lips, feeling his excitement, his hunger.

If this kept up, in another minute we'd be on the floor. Even as I thought that, I realized how oddly powerless I felt, as if I simply didn't have the strength to resist him. I trembled in his embrace, enjoying the sense of my own weakness compared to his forcefulness.

Whatever he wanted to do, apparently I was going to let him.

What the actual hell? As if from a great distance, I heard some tiny grain of my own common sense screaming at me to step back. Did I really, truly want to go along with an attack from a literal madman, just because I couldn't help finding the madman in question irresistable?

His body, hard against mine, made me clench with desire. I dismissed the irritating inner voice and its unwanted common sense, and tilted my head back, parting my lips under his onslaught.

Unfortunately, at that exact second the music grew louder, and I understood why I had been so unnerved by it.

It was the music from the stupid soap opera: the rape-theme, the music that had been playing in the disco the night Luke attacked Laura.

I pushed away gently and stepped back, and Edward reached for me, but before he could pull me back into his embrace I saw understanding dawn in his eyes. He swore under his breath, and took a step away from me. Bizarrely, I felt my heart sink.

Had I, on some level, wanted him to keep going?

I pushed the question aside to think about later, when I was alone. "What happened?" I asked instead. "Why am I hearing that music?"

He looked angry, but not at me. "Them," he said, spitting the word. "The Enemy. They're trying to force matters, trying to make our reality take the form they choose. They always pick the worst elements of any storyline, Bella. They have no sense of what's fitting or necessary or beautiful."

I sighed. Still crazy, then. Pity, because that was easily the most exciting kiss of my life to date.

I reached absentmindedly for phone, but it wasn't in my pocket. I'd laid it down on the desk when I threw away that letter.

"I have to go back," I told Edward. He nodded, not answering. He looked lost in thought, presumably about the evil intentions of his imaginary enemies.

As I dashed back along the corridor I felt my head clear, and I wanted to kick myself. What was wrong with me, letting myself be so shaken by a piece of music? Especially since I knew everyone in my group-maybe everyone in the compound, even-was currently studying the soap opera that used it. Probably someone was sitting in their room right now, reviewing the scenes on youtube or something, and we'd overheard their computer.

I really had to get away from these people, I decided. I was losing my ability to think straight. Their particular brand of fantasy was all too contagious.

And then there was the whole thing with Edward. My attraction to him couldn't be a good thing: he was at best a pronounced fantasist, and at worst a deliberately manipulative con artist. Leaving that letter on my desk had been a strange, childish little prank, and the possibility that he had thought I would really be taken in by something so silly was downright terrifying.

Yet I knew myself well enough to know, even if I'd never willingly admit it to another soul, that I would never be able to resist him if I stayed here. Being in close proximity to him drove me wild. He was so utterly physically beautiful, like a movie star or a piece of art, that he took my breath away.

Not to mention his sheer hotness. I had never before in my life found anyone so perfectly, killingly arousing. It was difficult to hold onto any kind of rational thought or resistance when my whole body cried out for his touch.

Even the words I used to think about my reactions were sounding off-kilter, I noticed. I was like someone who'd been bingeing on retro romance novels or old-fashioned melodramas. Maybe it was a side effect from watching a soap opera all day?

I unlocked the door to my room and stepped inside.

To my astonishment there was another letter lying on the desk, this one in a sealed white envelope.

It couldn't have been Edward this time, though. So maybe it had been someone else all along.

Maybe his whole family were in on it.


	24. Chapter 24

I slipped downstairs to the media room and eased the door open, only to find that the guys were at least ten minutes away from getting caught up. After a second of hesitation I decided the least disruptive thing would be to slip in and sit down, so I did that, heading for the same chair where I'd left my bag.

Only now Mike was sitting in the chair next to mine. I frowned. I was pretty sure I hadn't sat next to him; I usually tried to avoid him, because he tended to look me up and down in a way that made me feel crawly.

Oh, well. I sat down, figuring he could hardly be ogling me in the dim light from the screen. That was one of the better things about the Authentic's use of blackout curtains when we screened dvds: everything else in the room kind of disappeared.

But not this time. Mike shifted in his seat, leaning towards me. "I want you to know I made an offer for you," he whispered, and I flinched. "They told me someone had gotten there first, so I went with my second choice."

Poor Jessica. I felt mortified on her behalf. With any luck she'd never find out, though. "I'm sure you'll be very happy together," I lied through my teeth.

To my intense dismay he wasn't finished creeping me out yet. "I just want to make sure you know, Bella, that I'm here for you. If your pairing doesn't work out-or if you choose to decline him-all you have to do is say the word. I'll offer for you in a heartbeat."

Okay, my ability to be polite to him was rapidly running out. "Isn't that a bit cruel to whoever your second choice is?" I hissed. Even in the near darkness I could see him blink, startled.

"But that wouldn't matter, would it?" he said patiently, sounding as though he was explaining something to a not-very-bright student. "If we're meant to be together, then that's how the story will go. We can't worry about other people if our own narrative asserts itself. The storyline will play out if it's meant to."

I had absolutely nothing to say to that. After waiting a second for my rebuttal he sat back in his chair, apparently satisfied that he'd won the argument.

I'd never asked how long Mike had been with the Authentic. Not more than a year, I guessed, if he was only being paired up with someone now. I didn't want to ask, in case resuming our conversation encouraged him somehow, but I was curious. Exactly how long did it take for someone to accept this particular variety of fatalism, and decide that all the events in their life were merely following some pre-written pattern?

The longer I spent here, the more manipulation I sensed at work. Yet it was nothing I could pin down and present to Jacob as evidence, nothing I could actually say was illegal or even immoral. Mostly it was just strange.

I was lost in thought when the lights went up. I hadn't noticed what was going on with the soap opera at all, but presumably the guys were caught up now, since Alice had paused it. For five minutes they just talked among themselves. I hauled Wuthering Heights out of my bag and pretended to be absorbed in it so Mike wouldn't continue flirting with me, if flirting was even the right word. As always when I have a book I like in front of me, within minutes I really was lost in the written word and oblivious to my real-world surroundings.

I jumped a foot when I felt a hand on my arm.

"Woah," Angela said, laughing. She'd sat down on my other side, and Jessica was blushingly settling into the armchair next to her, making a huge display of not meeting Mike's eye. She looked so happy, and so uncharacteristically shy, that I felt an unwanted surge of happiness and jealousy at the sight of her. It was like seeing someone just after she's gotten engaged, and being torn between congratulating her and wishing it was you sporting the ring.

Which was, I knew even as I was feeling that way, an utterly bizarre reaction. I did not-not on ANY level-want to be paired off with Mike, so that wasn't it.

What I wanted, I realized suddenly, was to be experiencing the same excitement and giddiness that I saw reflected in everyone around me. I didn't want to be on the outside, observing and making notes and trying to pick apart the mechanisms of the cult. I just wanted to be having this weirdly romantic, sexually-charged, oddly retro happiness for myself.

I wanted in.

I wanted to toss away my training and just lose myself in getting "engaged" and having feelings for my Chosen partner, or rather, for the man who'd Chosen me.

Jacob had been right all along: these people really were dangerous.


	25. Chapter 25

** Author's note:** _Okay, so: at some point tonight or tomorrow (tonight I hope), I'll go update my Tumblr, and try to answer a few questions and comments up to this point. It's at cultward dot tumblr dot com, for anyone who wants to check that out tomorrow._

_In the meantime, chapter twenty-five just got back from the beta, so here it is. :)_

_Also: thank you SO MUCH to everyone reading this and commenting. You guys are the best._

At lunch Jessica and Angela were giggling and mock-interrogating each other as to who had offered for them, and whether they'd accept. It was obvious Mike had dibs on Jessica, and Angela was full of the news that Ben, one of the other guys in our group, had offered for her. As she'd clearly been hoping he would, I thought, looking at her bright eyes and pink cheeks and feeling that same pang of envy. It must be so much fun to be able to just let go and enjoy this whole bizarre thing.

"What about you, Bella?" Jessica asked, beaming at me. "Did you get your offer? Is he everything you hoped for?" She and Angela laughed, but not in a mean way.

"More importantly, are you going to say yes?" Angela asked. She reached out and gave my hand a little squeeze, smiling so widely I couldn't help smiling back. "Oh my God, you guys, are you as excited as I am? I'm never going to be able to sleep tonight!"

"Who did offer for you, Bella?" Jessica asked quietly, looking at me thoughtfully. "It wasn't someone in our group at all, was it? It can't have been." I felt suddenly uncomfortable. Was she going to go back to glaring at me if I told her the truth? Not that it mattered, not really, but I was enjoying this newfound sense of being included.

She shook her head, an amazed expression on her face. "I know who it is," she said, sounding as if she couldn't quite believe it. "Wow. I've known all along there was something strange about you. Remember how mad I was at you the first day you showed up for that lecture?"

I nodded, surprised that she was admitting it so easily. "Yeah," I said. "I couldn't figure out what I'd done to piss you off."

She looked contrite, and reached out to hug me briefly. Awkward. I'm not really the huggy type, and it's not like we'd been close up until now. "I'm really sorry about that," she said, and she looked sincere. "It was stupid, really. I was just jealous, but that seems so petty now that I'm about get married to the man of my dreams."

Her dreams must make my nightmares look tame if Mike starred in them. I carefully kept my revulsion from showing on my face. "What do you mean, jealous?" I asked.

She looked at Angela, and they both giggled. I tried not to roll my eyes. They were being nice to me, and I was doing my best to be patient, but it took an effort not to get exasperated.

"Well," Angela said slowly, "the night before the lecture, we bumped into Edward in the hall."

"We hardly ever see him, you know," Jessica said, watching me closely. "Not to talk to, I mean. No one does, aside from his family."

"So it was a big deal," Angela continued. "I mean, he stopped to talk to us."

"And he asked us if we'd met someone new." Jessica's eyes hadn't shifted from my face. "If we'd invited someone along. It was as though he knew we'd invited you. The one time I got to speak to him, and he was asking about you. So that's why I was jealous."

"We both were, really," Angela chimed in. I think she was trying to defuse the situation, because Jessica sounded oddly intense. Not jealous, exactly, and not angry, but...intense.

"It's been you all along," Jessica said now. Angela gave her a perplexed look.

"What do you mean?" I asked, and Angela's voice echoed mine. "What are you talking about?"

"You're a part of his story," Jessica said, nodding as she spoke. "That was why he knew. He must have felt it somehow-felt you getting closer, and sensed that we'd met you. It's him, isn't it? Edward's made an offer for you."

Angela gasped, and turned to me, wide-eyed. She looked so shocked I almost giggled myself at the sight of her. You'd have thought a god had proposed to me, judging by the awe in her face.

"Yes," I said, when I could trust myself to speak without laughing. "Edward expects me to tell him by tomorrow whether I'll marry him." The absurdity of the whole situation struck me more forcefully than ever. Was I really going through with this? Would I be wearing an engagement ring when I went to bed tomorrow night?

My pulse quickened at the thought. Unbidden, I found myself imagining what it would be like to be sitting in bed on my wedding night, wearing a seductive concoction of satin and lace and waiting for my husband to lay claim to me.

My whole afternoon passed in a haze of imaginings, all more suited to an erotic romance novel than to reality. Every time I dragged my attention back to the television I found myself watching a soap opera courtship, and thinking I'd rather have Edward than any other character.

Person, I told myself firmly. He's a person, not a character. Will you wake up?

It felt natural to find him waiting for me when the day finally ended and I left the building. "Come for a walk with me?" he asked, and I nodded, still feeling dazed.


	26. Chapter 26

It was only eight o'clock, but the stress of my conflicting emotions had conspired to leave me even more exhausted than usual. If I ever try to describe this to someone, I thought wryly, it's going to be impossible to convince them that watching television and reading novels left me this drained every evening.

"Bella," Edward said, reaching out to turn my face toward his, "are you all right?" His eyes, sea-green in this light, radiated concern. "You look wiped out."

"I am," I confessed, and paused, unable to tell him what was bothering me, yet wishing I could confide in him. I could feel my shoulders relax and my whole body get less tense now that I was with him. There was just something about him that made me feel better, even though I should be regarding him as the source of all my problems, since he was the one with the impossibly inviting cult. "I guess I just have a lot on my mind."

He smiled slightly and took my hand, and we walked through the gates. I noticed Jasper waiting; he locked the gates behind us, and I shivered. Even knowing that the threats emanated from Edward's vivid imagination, it felt unsafe to leave the compound, as if there really might be enemies out here.

We strolled along in silence for a while, breathing the night air. "It must be very difficult for you," he said softly, when we'd reached the CalTech campus.

"How so?" I asked. We found ourselves a stone bench near a koi pond, and sat together, his arm around my waist. I rested my head against his shoulder and shut my eyes, momentarily blissful. He felt warm and strong and male, and my whole body was both incredibly relaxed, and poised to be responsive to his.

"Struggling to balance your assignment and your emotions," he said, his breath ruffling my hair. "It can't be easy right now, when you think you're here for one purpose, but your true purpose in life is trying to reassert itself."

For half a beat that didn't sink in. Then it did, and I tried to jerk upright, my heart pounding in panic. His arms tightened around me, holding me firmly in place.

Oh, hell. He knew about my assignment. But how? Had he overheard me talking to Jacob earlier today? I cursed myself silently for having been so stupid as to use a cellphone from inside the compound.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, my voice shaking. He laughed and stroked my hair. I struggled to pull away, but his impossible strength kept my body tight against his.

"Bella, please, calm down. I'm not angry with you, darling. I've known from the first day you arrived that you'd been sent here."

I turned my head to look at him. "Then why did you let me in? Why have you been pretending to accept me?" I challenged.

He shook his head, looking disappointed. "I haven't been pretending anything, Bella. You're the only one doing that." I felt a stab of guilt. "Whether you know it or not, you belong here. Having the FBI send you in is just the mechanism the narrative used to bring you to me."

"Does everyone here know?" I whispered, somehow horrified by the thought.

"Of course not," he reassured me. "My family do, naturally. You know, you're the fourth agent the FBI have sent to us. But it's never been a problem before, so we're just proceeding as usual. We have nothing to hide. The only thing different this time, Bella, is what you mean to me."

I couldn't lie to him, not with him looking into my eyes like this, not when I could feel his heartbeat in counterpoint to my own. "I knew there were other agents before me. The friend who got me this assignment told me that much."

He nodded again. "One of them is at our compound in Massachusetts now, and one went overseas to our English compound. The third chose not to continue his work with the Authentic, though he left on friendly terms. I think he found us a bit baffling."

There were other compounds? Jacob hadn't said a word about that. With a thrill of excitement I realized he probably didn't know. I had found out something real, something important; sending me here hadn't been a waste of time after all. Except now my heart plunged at the idea of reporting on Edward. I wasn't sure I could do it: it felt too much like a betrayal.

Edward was still talking. "But the other infiltrators aren't important right now. What's important is that you know you don't have to lie to me about who you are, or how you came to be here." His lips quirked upward in a brief, humorless smile. "There's no point anyway. I had a file prepared on you once you arrived. Private investigators are pretty thorough, if you pay them well enough. There's not a lot about you I don't know at this point."

He leaned forward, his face even closer to mine. "Not a lot, that is, that's a matter of public record," he amended. "The things I really need to know are a mystery. I don't know what you're thinking, Bella, or how you really feel."

Wordlessly I tilted my head, bringing my lips to his and answering with a kiss that revealed far more than I wanted to about the state of my heart and soul. They were, I knew in that instant, his to do with as he pleased.


	27. Chapter 27

** Author's note:** _ARRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH._

_So. Friday morning I sat down to update this, and my laptop died. I can pick it up on Thursday; it's probably not fixable, but I'm hoping they'll at least be able to recover my files. INCLUDING THE NEXT THREE CHAPTERS OF THIS, which are written in rough draft. AARRGGH. But at least this chapter was safely in the hands of my beta, so here it is. And with any luck I'll be updating again by Thursday night._

I don't know how long we stayed like that, with me clinging to him almost desperately, lost in the sheer pleasure of kissing him. It was Edward who pulled away, holding me at arm's length and looking down at me affectionately. "We should get you back," he said. "You need sleep."

We walked back quietly, and Edward unlocked the gates. I waited for him, reluctant to leave his side until I absolutely had to. When we reached the entrance to building two I asked, impulsively, "Did you leave a note in my room for me?"

"No," he said, looking puzzled. "Note? Was I supposed to?"

Now I kind of wished I hadn't brought it up. He'd been being so honest with me all night that I'd thought maybe he'd laugh and confess to the prank, or tell me this was something his family did to all new members or something. "It was nothing, really," I said lamely. "Someone left a couple of notes in my room. I thought it might have been some kind of prank or hazing ritual or whatever."

He grabbed me by the shoulders, hard. "Do you still have the notes?" he asked, sounding way more serious than this warranted. I wondered if he was playing along, pretending the notes were real, but there was no trace of dishonesty in his expression. I couldn't believe he was lying to me.

The alternative was worse, though. He had that insane gleam in his eyes again, a real true-believer look. Which meant someone else had planted the notes, and he was falling for it.

I sighed. "Yes," I said. I didn't know whether to feel sorry for him, or angry that someone I wanted so badly-someone I suspected I was falling in love with-should be so obviously barking mad.

"Will you show me?" he asked.

My heart thumped at the prospect of bringing him up to my room. "Yes," I said, gulping. "Absolutely. You bet."

Mad or not, he had a power over me that I couldn't resist. I didn't even want to anymore.

Once we were in my room I retrieved the notes and handed them over. I sat on my bed, silently willing him to join me, while he stood by the desk and read them. I hadn't even read the second one myself yet, but I didn't care. Even though I thought he was deranged, I felt as if I could trust him to deal with it.

I felt as if I could trust him to deal with everything.

I felt like putting my whole life in his hands, and trusting him to take care of me, and to make decisions for me.

Which wasn't good at all. The small part of me that remembered my old life and missed it was jumping up and down, trying to get my attention and snap me out of this romantic daze I'd fallen into. He's crazy, I told myself: beautiful and desirable, but crazy. Lust after him if you must, but for heaven's sake, try to assert some initiative and common sense here.

I forced myself to stand up from the half-lounging position I'd assumed and to walk to his side and reach for the second note. This one, I saw at a glance, was written in mock-mobster style and purported to warn me that the man I'd gotten involved with was in trouble with the law. If only. That would actually be easier to deal with than a cult leader who thought we belonged together because multiple fictional universes said so, or...whatever it was Edward believed.

"This is all my fault," Edward said, and I couldn't help nodding. He wasn't watching, anyway; he was staring into space. Maybe there were invisible enemies in my room. "I chose the texts you're all using right now on purpose: I thought I could put you in the right frame of mind to accept me. But all I've done is give the Enemy a framework for attacking you."

He sounded so miserable that I rushed to reassure him. "They're only notes, Edward. They can't hurt me. I'm not even going to pay any attention to them." I stopped just short of blurting out that I suspected his family of planting them.

His voice was ominous. "You need to take this seriously. It won't stop with notes. Across the worlds, they've tried to rip you from my side. In some universes they suceeded, Bella; they've separated us, driven us to wrongly embrace other people, even killed to keep us apart. They'll try the same thing here." He ran a hand through his already-disordered hair, standing the reddish-bronze waves on end. "It's why I tried to drive you away in the beginning. It almost destroys me, warning you away when all I want to do is pull you closer. But it would be better to drive you off, and live an empty ruin of a life, than to be responsible for your death yet again. I can't take seeing you die again, Bella."

My own hair felt like it was standing on end from sheer terror. How could he believe something so insane? Was this some kind of garbled threat? Was he trying to warn me he'd kill me?

I shivered, and against all sense of self-preservation I crept close, pushing myself into his arms. In his embrace I felt safe. Perhaps I was the crazy one.


End file.
